Still Alive But Barely Breathing
by Kitiaria
Summary: Dean’s time is almost up, Sam’s trying to save his stupid-self-sacrificing-ass, Ellen’s rebuilt the Roadhouse, and Jo doesn’t know why everyone’s acting like Dean’s got cancer. Chapter 3 is up everyone, sorry for the wait!
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Dean's time is almost up, Sam's trying to save his stupid-self-sacrificing-ass, Ellen's rebuilt the Roadhouse, and Jo doesn't know why everyone's acting like Dean's got cancer.

* * *

_I know you thought I sold my soul, but you never told me to my face, _

_ ~ Pendulum, Showdown ~_

_

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_**CHAPTER 1

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**

The poltergeist banged him up good and proper this time. Gave him the works; cracked ribs, concussion, dislocated shoulder and the odd stab wound, _'or two'_ Sam had added when patching Dean up back at the motel, but Dean had argued that one was more like a slice than a stab. Sam had gotten that anguished, pinched look on his face, the one that said, _you have to stop doing this to me Dean, I don't wanna loose you! We have so little time left _and _stop being an asshole you prick _all rolled into one_. _Dean had rolled his eyes and complained that Sam – the little bitch – didn't have a scratch on him, and why was it he was always the one to get off scot free? Naturally that did wonders for Sam's guilty conscience so of course Dean had offered to resolve **that **little problem if he really wanted and the usual argument had ensued after that; Dean was still high on pain meds, so unsurprisingly he'd lost. This was _Sam_ he was talking about after all. And what a time to get injured, he only had a week left to live, had only just managed to convince Sam to tear himself away from those research books to sort out the poltergeist and now look. Here he was banged up and hurting and just wanting a bit of peace and quiet and Sam had dragged him into the lion's den.

Here they were, outside the new and improved Roadhouse, looking for Dean's last bit of downtime – as he was referring to it as – and possibly large quantities of whiskey. Dean was currently trying to drag himself out of the sticky leather of the impala's seats without betraying any emotion whatsoever. Quite frankly, Sam thought he looked constipated.

"Take it easy Dean, you don't wanna damage your ribs anymore than already, here let me-"

"I can get out of my own damn car Sam!" Dean said through gritted teeth, before muttering, "Even if I'm not allowed to drive it...stupid-over-protective-whiny-good-for-nothing-brother..."

_Jesus,_ Sam thought, _and Dean said he bitched._

Sam rolled his eyes, hiding a somewhat broken smile as he jogged around the car to lend Dean a hand anyway, regardless of the bitching he'd get.

"Stop whining," He said slamming the car door with a little too much force as he held Dean's elbow.

"Watch it Sammy! Careful! Jeeze! I'm gonna have to have a serious talk to you about the care of my car Sam, seeing as you don't know how to treat her! Don't worry baby, I'll get him to treat you right." With a painful grimace he pulled out of Sam's grip and started limping towards the roadhouse. Sam looked to the sky, shaking his head. "And get the bags bitch!"

With a mournful sigh that lasted much too long, Sam turned back to the Impala, popping the trunk open to grab their duffle bags. Then, with another weary sigh, he proceeded to plod along to the front door. The fact that he managed to catch up to Dean while walking at his normal pace, and before they even reached the Roadhouse was testament of the seriousness of Dean's injuries. Dean of course would explain it in terms of Sam's freakishly long legs and the fact that Sam had drank more than his own body weight in caffeine to get here in such a short amount of time.

Striding ahead of his brother he pushed open the wooden doors to the new and improved Roadhouse, holding it so Dean could shuffle into the cool interior, thanking God that they were almost out of the midday sun. His lips tugged up into a small smile as he watched Dean squint and then scowl as Sam motioned him inside and then mouthed the words _you and me are gonna talk Sammy-boy._ Sam didn't take him too seriously after all, he was pursing his lips and hunching his shoulders, by the looks of him he'd be asleep by the time he sat down at the bar.

"Dean! Sam!" Ellen's voice startled Sam into letting the door slam with a bang and he winced. They shuffled up to the bar, Sam dropping the bags at his feet as Ellen continued, "Where have you boys been, I haven't heard from you in months. You look a little worse for wear, especially you Dean, but at least you decided to come see us."

"Us?" Dean questioned, aiming for nonchalant – a small part of him, a part which Dean tended to squash thoroughly, hoped that Jo was here – and with a grunt as he levered himself down onto a stool. Sam looked at him then, through squinted eyes, his voice was rough and he looked paler than before in the car but his cheeks were rosy so Sam glanced away again. "And it's not my fault damn poltergeists insist on throwing things at me and not Sam,"

"It's 'cause you've got a fat head Dean, they can't resist,"

Ellen only chuckled over Dean's disgruntled _'Hey!"_ before answering his first question, "Yeah, us. After the fire, I managed to convince Jo to come back and help me rebuild. I couldn't have done it without her." Sam glanced back at her, noticing the new lines about her eyes and the wisps of grey at her temples. Something told him that rebuilding the Roadhouse hadn't been as easy as she implied. "She's out on a supply run, she'll be mighty surprised when she comes back and finds you two. But she's back."

"That's great Ellen," Sam smiled, then looking sheepish said, "You don't mind if we stop here for a bit do you? We've just had a couple of rough months and-"

"Say no more Sam, I'll show you to a room." She turned then grabbing a bag from Sam and leading him towards the back of the bar. She ducked behind the counter to grab a set of keys handing one to Sam, before starting towards the back door that led towards the house part of the bar. Sam noticed, somewhat surprised, that Harvelle's Roadhouse had the same layout as its predecessor as he was led through the back corridors. He couldn't help but notice however that everything seemed a little larger. They'd expanded, and there were more rooms, larger too, so it seemed to take longer than the last time they stayed here to reach their respected room. When Ellen finally stopped at the end of the corridor and turned to face Sam he almost sighed in relief, his back hurt from where he got a house cat thrown at him, and damn they have spiky claws, so all he wanted to do was take a long hot shower and drink, as Dean had afore mentioned to him in the impala, dubious quantities of whiskey.

"You can have this room with Dean, bathroom's just opposite, Jo's to the left." She smiled hesitantly before saying, "I'm glad to see you boys again, Sam. Don't be strangers in this house now,"

"Don't worry," Sam grinned in return, "You'll probably have us for a while, or at least until Dean gets better. And by that time you'll never want to see us ever again. Dean has that effect on people, especially when he's recuperating. Whiny little bastard." Ellen laughs, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Your father was always the same," She said, "Just whined and bitched until I snapped and told him to suck it up and be a man."

"Really?" Sam replied stepping into his and Dean's room – it was a respectable size, with two beds and a table between with a wardrobe against the furthest wall, by the window – and dropped the bags on to a bed, "He always acted like nothing could ever hurt him...suppose that's where Dean got it from...the whining that is." He gave a small smile, turning back out to the hall to follow Ellen back to the bar.

"I suppose he did."

* * *

Dean watched as Sam and Ellen disappeared into the back of the bar and he let his head rest, against the table in relief of being away from assessing eyes. Now alone he let his mask slip.

"Shiiiiit," He breathed. He felt hot and lightheaded and the wood felt cool under his cheek which only intensified the heat on his face. It didn't really click that he had a fever until he remembered that it was supposed to be cooler in here. He tried to raise his head and call out for Sam but all that came out was a pitiful "Mmm."

He could feel sweat beading at his temples and he finally lifted his head before raising a shaking hand to swipe at it only stopping suddenly to steady himself as the upwards movement sent his head spinning. Or rather the whole room felt like it was tipping sideways and the lights seemed to be too bright and psychedelic and swirly to be real and that, teamed with the ringing in his ears should have been warning enough, but Dean still found it in himself to be surprised when he found himself on the floor head throbbing more than before.

"Stupid poltergeist," He mumbled, before proceeding to pass out, limbs twitching slightly as his muscles relaxed completely into an ungainly sprawl.

* * *

Sam thought he should tell Ellen and Jo about Dean's deal. Scrap that, he knew he should tell them; after all they might be able to help him find a way to stop the hell hounds from ripping his brother to pieces, but Dean...Dean didn't want them to know. They both needed a little downtime and Dean had specifically told him not to tell them, after all 'downtime shouldn't be spent researching Sammy'. That went straight to hell when he and Ellen returned to the bar to find Dean not on his stool. Confused he rounded the counter and it all made a sickening sort of sense when he saw his brother on the floor.

"Dean!" He shouted, stumbling over his own feet as he raced to his brother's side. Lifting Dean's head onto his lap he felt for a pulse, gasping with relief when he felt the steady, albeit rapid thud of Dean's heartbeat. It took a moment to realise that Ellen was talking to him, and another to properly understand what she was saying to him.

"-that could be infected? Sam, does he have any wounds that could be infected?"

"I-I don't think so, I mean he took a pretty wicked hit to the head, he's got a concussion, and a fever," He noted feeling the blazing heat coming of Dean's face, where it rested against his jeans. The fact that Sam could feel the heat through the thick denim of his jeans made his eyebrows furrow with worry and he looked up at Ellen, "The stab wounds were both pretty shallow but he's got broken ribs, dislocated shoulder," He began listing his voice cracking, "I can't lose him Ellen, not after-" He broke off with a sob.

"After?" She enquired, hunkering down to feel Dean's forehead.

"Nothing," Sam muttered, sniffing, "Help me get him up?" She nodded, grabbing his legs as Sam stood up heaving Dean's torso with him.

"Damn he's heavy," She muttered staggering a little under the elder Winchester's weight.

"I keep telling him to stop eating crap but he doesn't listen to me," Sam grunted, shifting Dean's weight, and then they started towards their room. Sam almost groaned when he realised how far away they were.

They laid Dean down on the bed near the window, struggling not to jostle his injured ribs and both Sam and Ellen sighed with relief at not carrying him.

"Do you have a thermometer, and maybe some ice Ellen?" Sam called over his shoulder hands working to pull Dean's shirt over his head without pulling on his ribs or shoulder. Sam could see the edges of what seemed to be a particularly violent looking bruise peeping from underneath the bindings around his ribs and he winced.

"Yes of course, do you want a bucket?"

"Please," And Ellen was gone, leaving Sam at Dean's side, squished on the edge of the bed as he grappled to remove Dean's boots and jeans, and apart from the odd groan from his brother, Dean made no attempt to wake up. "Come on Dean," Sam murmured eyebrows furrowed with worry, as he checked the two stab wounds he'd gotten from the poltergeist. The deeper gash looked red and hot around the stitched edges and seeped a clear liquid when Sam pressed lightly. "Dammit," He swore, "It's just a little infection, a little concussion, nothing you've never had before. Come on; don't do this to me now not when-"

"I'm back. Here you go Sam, I had to close up. I've got some cloths in the bucket, I'll take his temperature." Sam nodded, busying himself in reaching down into the icy water of the bucket to grab a rag, and dip it in before smoothing it over Dean's face. His brother flinched and gasped at the cold, shivering as Sam left the rag on his forehead.

As he was rubbing Dean's torso with another cloth the thermometer beeped and Ellen swore, "103.5" She said, "Not good, Sam we're gonna have to get him in the shower. You grab him; I'll get it running." Sam nodded mechanically, knowing she had already gone and got his arms under Dean's shoulders and knees. How had he missed Dean's fever? Sure it was warm outside but – Sam shook his head, he'd agonise later and for once he was glad of his extra height when, with a grunt, Sam heaved Dean up with _almost_ little effort. He still stumbled under the added weight though, lurching towards the door as he began towards the bathroom. Sam tried not to notice as Dean's head hung limply next to his arm, the skin of his face burning fiercely against the flesh of Sam's bicep.

The bathroom was large, Sam noted, thankfully and there was enough room to manoeuvre around Ellen without dropping his brother. The shower curtain had been pulled back haphazardly and the water was cold where it spattered against Sam's face. Without a seconds hesitation Sam clambered into the bath, shoes, jeans, clothes and all, shuddering against the cold.

Dean didn't respond at first, not until Sam let his legs down and held him upright from behind. Then he did react, gasping and flinching away from the water, cringing into Sam's chest.

"Hey, Dean, it's okay, you just need to cool down a bit," He murmured into Dean's neck. Sam barely noticed the cold water, even though it wetted his hair, and ran down his face in rivulets, all that mattered was Dean, and getting Dean better and-

"Sammy?" Dean mumbled, head rolling back onto his brother's shoulder. "Whatcha doin' t' me?"

"We've gotta get your fever down, big brother,"

"S'cold," He shivered violently trying to move out from under the shower head.

"I know Dean but you've got a fever, we've got to get it down, just a little longer man, then you can rest some," He turned to look at Ellen, "How long do you think?"

"Another minute or two, just enough to get his temperature down to a safer level,"

They waited a while, Dean shuddering, head rolling on Sam's shoulder as he tried to get away from the sharp coldness of the water. When a particularly broken moan tore itself from Dean's throat as he pushed back into Sam's chest, Sam looked imploringly from under his wet fringe at Ellen who nodded reluctantly. She reached towards them then, placing a hand against Dean's neck and he groaned, twisting away. "He feels a little cooler, but we'll more than likely need to do this again. I'll grab some towels; put them in your room."

"Thanks Ellen," Sam murmured, shifting his hold on Dean, grappling to keep his brother upright as he began to climb out of the shower. "I'll clean up in here later, I just-"

"Forget it, I'll get Jo to when she gets back, you just worry about that brother of yours." She reached into the shower again, this time, to shut the water off. "I'll see if we have anything for that fever of his."

Sam nodded again in gratitude and hoisted Dean up against him, his hand behind his brother's knees as he stumbled back into their room. Then, laying Dean onto his bed he grabbed the thermometer and said, "I've just gotta take your temperature Dean, hold still," Dean grunted in answer turning his head to the side. "How're you feeling man? Any better?" The thermometer bleeped, and Sam glanced down, 100.5. Better, he needed to watch it though.

Dean gave an unintelligible mumble and shivered before saying, "Room's spinning,"

"Hey, look at me, let me check your pupils," He tilted Dean's head up so the light from outside them would shine into his eyes. Dean flinched, pulling his head out of Sam's hands, saying:

"S'too bright,"

"Sorry, sorry," Sam replied letting Dean bow his head against the light and jumping up to yank the curtains closed, "You want anything, a drink, some pain meds?"

"Jus'..." Dean sighed long and drowsily, "Wanna sleep Sammy," He grumbled turning his face into the pillow and swiping at the hand Sam laid on his forehead, "Sleepy,"

"I'll get you a drink, okay? For later, when you wake up,"

"'Kay," Dean snuffled, looking back at Sam one more time and giving a sleepy smile, "Thanks Sammy," And then Dean was asleep.

Sam sighed wearily, reaching down to get a damp cloth to place it on Dean's forehead; it would keep the fever down. He stood up, striding back into the bathroom to grab a glass he'd seen Ellen leave with some ibuprofen on the counter. He grabbed both, filling the glass with water before returning to his brother.

Dean looked younger when he slept. The lines of worry and pain on his face smoothed out completely as he lay passed out on the towels. There was still a faint tinge of pink on his cheekbones, but less so than in the bar. Sam watched him sleep, reassured by the sound of his breathing and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

His brother seemed so small lying on the bed, arms splayed and outstretched beside him, especially as Dean always slept on his stomach, right hand under his pillow, gripping his favourite knife. It just made him realise how quickly Dean could be taken from him. Dean's vulnerability just made him all that more aware that he could lose Dean with a snap of demons fingers. The deal he'd made would keep Sam alive, but part of him Sam knew would die along with his brother if Dean did go to hell. But Sam promised he wouldn't let that happen. His brother would not die. He would not go to hell for him.

He was glad that Jo was here. If Sam was honest, he was surprised that the two had never hooked up, but he knew that Jo was too close to being family for Dean to treat her as a one night stand. He still suspected, though, that Dean liked her a lot more than the usual girls he spent his time with nowadays and maybe that would make it easier on Sam. Because if Dean was faced with leaving two people he loved behind when he went to Hell, he might fight a little more to stay alive. And Sam knew that Jo liked Dean, hell mostly every girl they came into contact with liked Dean in one way or another, but with Jo...Sam had the incline that Jo's feelings for Dean went a little deeper than a school girl crush. Dean needed someone who understood him, someone who understood what he did and why he did it. Sam just hoped that maybe that someone could be Jo.

Dean snuffled again, wincing in his sleep as he tried to turn over and it was then he remembered Dean's ribs. The bandages were sodden, falling off his brother's frame and he grabbed his duffle, searching for the med kit. He pulled it out, grabbing a new set of bandages and carefully unravelling the used ones from Dean. It took a lot of effort to lift Dean and rebind his ribs without waking his brother, but Sam did it. When Dean was laid out on the bed again he set about checking his other injuries. He cleaned the infected stab just above Dean's left hipbone, stitched it up once more and bandaged it. Then he took the rag from Dean's forehead and dipped it back into the icy bucket, and placed it back on Dean's head. Time dragged on and the light from outside dimmed until Sam was sat next to his brother in almost complete darkness.

Sam stood up then, taking a step away from his brother and with a weary sigh set about finding something alcoholic to drink. He shambled back into the bar, slumping on one of the stools and was surprised when a familiar voice said, "Sam, why are you dripping on the counter?"

Sam startled upright from his slouched position, whirling around to face a girl he hadn't seen since he had been possessed. She looked the same, blonde hair swept back into a high ponytail, big brown eyes framed with thick lashes, but she seemed tired. One blonde eyebrow was quirked in question as the silence between them dragged.

"Jo," He said somewhat stupidly, "Jo, I-"

"I know what you're gonna say, so save it. I understand you were possessed, you couldn't control it, blah, blah, blah. It's okay," She walked around to the back of the bar, reaching down to grab a bottle of Jack Daniels and two glasses. She looks up at him and gives a little smile, then motions to the glass she has placed in front of him.

"She was trying to get to Dean, she hates him," Sam said, his shoulders slump slightly at the admission; he grabs the glass and downs it all in one.

"Who hates him? The demon that possessed you?" At Sam's nod she grinned, "So you mean you had a girl inside you for like a week? That's hilarious Sam!"

Sam smiled weakly, "That's what Dean said."

Jo chuckled at that, and then raised her eyebrow again, "You still haven't told me why you're wet."

"I ah-"He began, but Jo cut him off.

"And speaking of Dean, where is he?"

"Passed out in the back," Ellen said. Sam startled, he hadn't heard her come back into the room. "Checked his fever, it's down to 100,"

"He's getting better then," Sam replied solemnly grabbing his refilled drink.

"What's the matter with him?" Jo asked, and Sam turned back to her. Her eyebrows wee furrowed in slight worry.

"Yes, I'd like to know happened seeing as my bathroom's currently a swimming pool,"

"Shit, sorry about that Ellen, I'll clean it up now-" Sam started to stand up but Ellen placed a surprisingly firm hand on his shoulder and pushed him back onto the stool.

"I'm having none of that Sam. You and Dean are guests." She smiled and motioned to Jo to pour her a drink. "So what happened for Dean to end up like that? Get a few bookshelves thrown at him?"

"Stupid ass went and got himself turned into a poltergeist punch-bag. It was particularly violent and when it realised Dean could dodge most things it threw at him, it decided throw Dean into things." Jo glanced at Sam, his tone, something sounded off. "Mainly walls and kitchen appliances..."

"Something tells me that's not the whole story," She said resting her elbows on the wooden counter. "What really went down?"

Sam went rigid._ They don't know about the deal, it's alright._ "No, it's true. Just...Dean was just being the usual self-sacrificing bastard that he is. No regard for what would happen if something were to kill him, not caring what I'd do if he were to-" Sam broke off, looking back at his empty glass and rolling it between his hands. "It's just...been a couple of rough months...that's all."

"You're not in any kind of trouble are you Sam? Because you know we'd help you boys, you're like family," Sam looked up then, saw agreement mirrored on Jo's face and felt his eyes tear up.

"Thanks Ellen, Jo." Sam said, he knew the Harvelle's would do all they could to help him with Dean's deal, but Sam already appreciated the fact that Dean didn't want them involved. _No way, no how_, as Dean had put it himself, _are they to become involved. I don't want them in my business_. Sam had snarked back saying, _what if they can help Dean? What if they know how to break this stupid, __**stupid**__ deal you made? _Which just made Dean even more adamant that they shouldn't know, because: _well, I'm sorry Sam; I didn't know you'd rather be dead_. _And it's my damn life, my damn business and I say I do __**not**__ want them __**involved**__. Are we clear?_ Sam had glared, gone silent; ignoring Dean for the rest of the day, but had reluctantly agreed...only after Dean threatened to destroy Sam's laptop with all his demon deal research still on it.

There was a moments silence between the Harvelle's and Sam. Then Ellen coughed and said, "Why don't you go get some rest Sam, you look worn out. Change out of those wet clothes and get some sleep. Jo and me will keep an eye on Dean, don't worry."

"Yeah," Sam murmured, "Yeah, thanks Ellen, I think I will." He stood, smiling at the two women before shuffling back towards Dean and his room. _They don't know...but if they did could they help me save Dean?_

* * *

Jo looked at her mother, who stared right back at her, the same disbelief plastered on her face.

"Something's happened," Jo said softly, "I've not seen Sam this low before, not even when his Daddy died,"

"Maybe I should call Bobby," Ellen said, reaching for her mobile, "See if he knows what's gone on,"

"Do you think he'd know? I mean-"

"Bobby's like a second father to those boys Hun, he'd know if something had happened to them," Ellen tucked a loose strand of hair behind an ear, and Jo is struck by how much older her mother looked, more tired since the fire and Ash's death.

"You want me to clean the bathroom, Mom?" She asked jumping down off the stool.

"Yeah, sweetie, that'd help," Ellen said. Jo nodded and made her way down the hall. If she was being honest with herself, she only really offered to clean the bathroom, to see if she could catch a glance of Dean and see how he was really doing...medically speaking, of course. If she was being even _more _honest with herself she'd admit she'd only offered to clean the bathroom to just see Dean again. But the door to the boy's room was closed and Jo felt disappointment flood through her. So with a sigh, she turned to the bathroom, wincing at the water everywhere and set about cleaning up yet another mess.

* * *

"Robert Singer if you know something about those boys, then I think I should know!" Ellen said heatedly down the phone. _Damn that man_, she thought,_ almost as stubborn as John Winchester himself._

"It's not my place Ellen, you wanna know, you ask those boys." She rolled her eyes at his tone.

"Bobby you know full well they won't tell me anything," She listened to Bobby as he blew a puff of air out between his teeth and the phone crackled with the sound.

"Dean won't tell you, hell no, but get Sam alone and he might. Bribe him with research books or somethin'. I don't know Ellen, those boys." He sighed, the same weary sigh she'd heard Sam give in the bar, "They're all they've got, the things they'd do for the other."

"They're brothers Bobby of course-"

"It's not that...just...just ask Sam...alone. I'm sorry Ellen." And before she even had a chance to answer him the dial tone blared into her ear. With an angry huff she shoved the phone into the pocket of her jeans and poured another glass of whiskey for herself. Damn Winchester's were going to be the death of her.

* * *

Dean woke with a start, gasping as the dream trickled from his mind. _Damn hell hounds_. He thought. _Stupid bitch sent them early. _He sighed, and began to pull himself into a seated position. His ribs protested and he could still feel the flush of his fever on his cheeks but Dean continued regardless. He jerked at the sound of someone moving and reached blindly in the dark, searching for a weapon that wasn't there. He stopped then, squinting into the darkness to see Sam, sprawled on his stomach and sighed mentally with relief. Stupid dream's got him jumpy. He didn't hear them all the time, not even every day, just enough to think he's going mad.

With an angry noise he stood up, only to grapple with the wall for support as the room spun and tilted on its axis. Dean shook his head, dispelling the groggy feeling and began to search for his jeans. He found them eventually, after tripping over a bucket of partially melted ice and nearly falling face first into the clothes basket. They were folded up at the end of his bed and Dean struggled to slip them on without waking his brother. He looked at Sam again, the glass of water and pain meds grabbed his attention on the little table between them. Smiling slightly he grabbed the water, leaving the pills as, after all he was going in search of liquor and wouldn't be mixing pills and alcohol be irresponsible?

So, quietly as he can muster, he shuffled out of the room, in search of a good hard drink. Glancing down the corridor he wondered who found him, who carried him to the room and wondered where the hell the alcohol was.

He eventually found his way to the bar after not once, but twice stumbling into closets, and when he did find it, he sighed with relief. The place was empty, and a quick check of his watch told him it was almost two in the morning, and wasn't that a great time for some whiskey? He smiled grabbing the bottle of Jack Daniels left on the counter and unscrewed the cap, downing a mouthful, smiling in contentment as the liquid warmed his belly. He was about to take another mouthful when Dean got the distinct impression he was being watched. He was about to turn around when the person spoke.

"Dean,"

Jo. Dean thought and smiled, remembering what happened the first time they met.

"Can you not punch me this time?" He queried, spinning on his stool and coming face to face with the blonde. It took a moment to realise that spinning probably hadn't been the best way to turn around and he tipped forwards. He then realised that he was more than likely about to come up close and personal with the floor again, and barely had time to brace himself when Jo's hands came about his bare shoulders, pushing him gently against the bar.

"Steady Dean, take it easy," She breathed, "What are you doing up anyway?" she murmured a curse when she felt the heat coming off him and says, "Jesus, you should be resting, you're not well," She glanced down at his torso, watching the muscles move under his skin as he grabbed the bar for support.

"Resting's for sissies," He grumbled. Then, wincing he pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes before answering her properly. "Needed something to drink,"

"You shouldn't be drinking with pain med's Dean and a concussion and a fever on top of all that! It's just stupid-" _So she'd obviously been filled in on his current state of wellbeing, wonderful._

"Hey! I know better than that!" He protested weakly, smiling when she glared at him.

"Then," She growled, "What do you call this?"

Dean glanced at the bottle of whiskey in her slight hands and grinned, "Well," He began, but stopped at the look Jo was giving him. He smiled at the flustered look on her face as she got angry at the blatant hypocrisy which was seemingly obvious. "Don't worry," He muttered, suddenly tired with the argument. "I didn't take any pain meds, so I'll be fine drinking myself into a coma."

"Nuh uh," Jo retorted, pulling the bottle out of his reach, "You're having none of this Dean Winchester. You are going to go back to bed to sleep off this fever and take your pain meds."

"Bossy," Dean muttered, "And what's with calling me 'Winchester? Huh, _Jojo? _Or do you prefer_ Joanna_?" He asked, trying to distract her enough to grab the whiskey again, but she was having none of it. Jo slinked away, shoving the bottle below the counter with a wicked grin, knowing all too well that Dean couldn't bend that far down with his ribs the way they were, plus his head injury would keep him on the floor.

"You're a mean person," He said pouting and folding his arms across his chest.

"I know, now off to bed!"

He mock glared from beneath his eyelashes and pouted as he stood up again, only to sway forwards. _Damn you concussion_ he thought angrily, shaking a mental fist at the poltergeist.

"Careful," Jo said, stepping forwards, catching Dean's bare shoulders again. Her hands felt cool where they had landed, one pressed over his heart. He looked down at her in the gloom, suddenly serious.

He couldn't do this. He wanted to. Oh God did he want to but...Not now. Not when...He made a pained noise and startled away from her, clutching at his ribs, using the pain to bring him back to reality. He wouldn't involve himself in Jo, not now when he had such little time left. His death would cause even more heartache.

Jo watched him hesitantly; eyebrows furrowed with worry and hurt at his flinch away from her touch. He gave a weak grin and said softly, "Okay, I'm gonna go back to bed," Jo watched him for another moment, seemingly arguing with herself.

"Take your pain meds," She said roughly and Dean nodded; high-tailing it back to his room.

* * *

~ End Part 1 ~

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A/N: Hope you liked it, please, tell me what you think!!!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here's the next bit, I hope you like it and please tell me what you think!!!

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CHAPTER 2

* * *

When Dean had told Jo he would go back to bed and take his med's it'd been the truth, only he'd gotten into the room and the hell hounds had started baying and howling as if they were only next door. So he'd closed the door and turned his attention to the corridor before him. Jo most certainly was still in the bar and he didn't fancy coming into contact with her again, not while he was jumpy from the growling. Dean couldn't afford to let anyone else know about his deal, the more people who knew, the more likely it was that someone would find a way to stop this deal and Sam would be dead again. He hadn't even told Sam about hearing the hell hounds yet, because that would almost certainly lead to some kind of chick flick moment and Sam's guilty little puppy dog eyes would come out in full force along with the wobbly lip. And oh God he could see it all now, _'Dean why didn't you tell me, I can help, Dean, just let me hold you and we'll cry and all will be well in the world!' _ Okay, so maybe that wasn't exactly what Sam would say, but it was near enough.

Plus his face was still burning with the fever and Dean thought a cool glass of water would go down mighty nice right now. So with that in mind, he turned his attention to the back corridor, and soon found himself in a respectably sized kitchen. With a sigh he padded over to the sink – pulling out a glass from one of the cupboards on his way – and turned the tap on. Cupping his hands underneath the cool, flowing water Dean waited until his fingers were tingling from the chill and then brought his damp hands out and rubbed them over his face and neck. Dean had just been about to take a sip of the water when he heard a cough sound from behind him. He swivelled on his heels, cringing, hoping, praying it wasn't Jo again.

It wasn't.

It was worse.

"Er, hey Ellen." He said with a sheepish grin, "Nice night ain't it?"

"Boy, you're supposed to be in bed resting! What in the hell are you doing up?"

With a grin that could only be described as being inherently Dean he replied: "Not resting?"

Rolling her eyes Ellen stepped into the kitchen, then, hands on her hips she squinted at Dean, "Dean, hon, you're still ill. Go back to bed and rest that fever off."

"I ain't got no fever," Dean pouted, looking up at her through his eyelashes.

"Don't even try that with me Dean Winchester, it didn't work when your Daddy tried it and it won't work with you –"

"So Dad did try something with you then? I figured. But what did he try huh, Ellen?" Dean asked cutting her off, his mouth twisting into a wide smile, teeth shining in the gloom and leaning forwards towards her.

She squinted her eyes in return, "Get your skinny ass back to bed and get some rest." She said, hands on her hips trying to look authoritative.

"My ass ain't skinny, that's Sam!" He replied giving her a lavish grin. "And why do you care about my ass?"

She squinted again, pursing her lips as if it would protect her from the charms of Dean Winchester. It failed and he rolled her eyes as her heart gave a soft flutter. She blushed and said, 'I don't care whether your ass is skinny or not, it's still going back to bed –"

"Why Ellen I didn't know you wanted to get me into bed!"

" –and get some rest!" She continued talking, ignoring Dean's little quip and jerked her head in the direction of the door.

"Yes, ma'am," Dean said coyly, pouting his lips some more. He lifted the cool glass to his mouth and took a long draught from it, licking the moisture from his lips all the while a twinkle in his eyes. And Ellen rolled her eyes, watching him flutter his eyelashes at her and grin. She laughed in return, motioning for him to hightail it.

He turned to place the glass down on the counter when he heard them again, just outside the window, growling and snarling. "Shit," He swore, they were so close and loud and near that Dean flinched and dropped the glass, which landed, shattering on impact on the wooded floor.

"Dean?!" Ellen said shock evident on her face. She stepped forwards, hand outstretched but Dean flinched away from her. Ellen tried to ignore the stab of pain that shot through her as she watched the elder Winchester stumble away to the other side of the room, towards the door leading outside. She tried to ignore the bloody footprints as he stepped in the glass and the way his hands shook as he fumbled with the lock, "Dean, what's the matter?"

Dean ignored her, instead opened the backdoor and stepped outside, wanting to scream all the while. The hell hounds had gone he was sure, after all the first hints of the sun were bleeding into the night sky, painting the horizon an ironic, bloody red. He squinted into the darkness, taking another step forwards, sure he could see a shadow, low to the ground. Was it a hell hound? Was he wrong, had they not left? They couldn't take him, not yet, surely? What were they doing here then? If not to torment him with their constant howling?

"Dean, answer me, hun, what's wrong?" Ellen stepped forwards, reaching for him again, practically sighing with relief when he didn't flinch away. He looked as if he was searching for something out on the horizon, something dangerous, but what, she didn't know. As her hand met his shoulder, he turned back to her, as if realising she was still there. "Dean?" She queried again.

"Nothing. 'S the fever," He muttered, hunching his bare shoulders. "S'nothing Ellen, imma go back to bed." Before Ellen had even had a chance to reply he spoke again, "Sorry 'bout the glass," and then disappeared entirely.

Somewhat stunned, and a little scared at the whole outburst, Ellen stepped back into the kitchen, locking the backdoor behind her. She didn't know what had spooked Dean enough to drop a glass, walk through the shattered remains and then practically sprint outside, but it obviously wasn't good. Maybe Sam would know what was going on, after all Bobby had said to talk to the boy alone, maybe she could get something out of him if she told him about tonight. She shook her head, reaching for a broom to sweep up the shattered remains of the glass. She would find out what was going on with those boys, whether they wanted her to know or not.

* * *

Hey Mom, what're you doing up so late?" Jo had heard a smash just as she had been bedding down and proceeded to investigate, which was how she found herself in the kitchen at who-knows-what-time in the morning where her mom was currently sweeping up pieces of a broken glass. "Is that glass? Wait, is that blood? What happened?"

"Me and Dean had a little run in." She said sighing. Her eyebrows were crooked down betraying her worry –something must have happened.

"Was Dean alright with you?" Jo asked remembering the sudden change in Dean's demeanour back in the bar.

"At first," Ellen said, leaving the glass for the moment, "He was being his usual self; cocky, arrogant, charming and idiotic all in one and then...I don't know it was like somebody flicked a switch and he, I swear to God Jo he jumped outta his skin and ran at the door."

"Through the glass?" Jo said stunned.

"Apparently whatever was outside was important enough to walk through some glass for." Ellen sighed, resuming her previous task. She was quiet for a moment, then she spoke quietly, "What are you doing up?"

Jo cringed. "I was kinda in the bar...with Dean. Telling him to go to bed and take his med of course Mom, God!" She said when her mother gave her a look. "What?! I'm being honest here Mom,"

Despite her almost-glare Ellen smiled at her daughter, "You know what I think about you and Dean hun," She said depositing the glass into the nearest bin.

"Yes mom," Jo sighed, rolling her eyes theatrically, "He's a womaniser, will never settle down, look elsewhere, yadda, yadda, yadda."

"He's a fine man, an even better hunter but-"

"Mom, if I have to listen to you lecture me about my non-existent love life with bad boy Dean Winchester one more time I may just spontaneously combust on the spot." Jo said deadpanned.

"Alright, alright. And it's not that I don't think Dean's a good man, it's just...you'll get your heart broken sweetie. Dean's one of those men who can't stop doing what they do simply for love, and one day he might not come home and you-"

Jo waved her arms about in an attempt to stop her mother from talking anymore, and when that didn't work she spoke, loudly cutting her off mid-tirade, "Mom, cut it out!" She didn't like to think of anyonedying. Hell if she was truthful with herself, she just didn't want to think about _Dean_ dying.

"Alright, okay. Sorry." Ellen chuckled, ruffling Jo's hair. "I think it's time we went to bed hun."

* * *

Sam awoke to an empty bed and was about to have a heart attack and start tearing the place up to find his brother, when Dean walked through the door, towelling his hair dry. Dean took one look at Sam and rolled his eyes,

"Calm down, Francis," He said thudding down onto his bed, "I was only in the shower,"

Sam scratched his head and managed to look sheepish as he said, "Sorry dude just, you know."

Dean sighed shortly, "Yeah,"

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between the brothers before Dean opened his mouth to speak again, "I'm gonna work on the car today, seeing as we're staying here for a few days and anyway she needs a touch up, some more oil, a bit of TLC, you know,"

"Dean, you're ribs-" Sam began, his forehead creasing with worry.

"Sam," Dean said, elbows on his knees, looking at his brother through his eyelashes, "I'm not exactly rebuilding her again, it's not that much hard work. I'll be-"

"I swear to God if you say _fine _I'm gonna strangle you." Sam cut him off, squinting at him from underneath his fringe. His lips twisted into a pout when Dean seemed to start laughing at him.

"I was going to say I'll be out back, just giving her some attention, no major work. Dude," Dean's lips were curved up in the corners, a hint of a smile at Sam's concern and threat of bodily harm playing about his lips.

Sam rubbed at his eyes, across his forehead, sighing harshly before looking down at his feet. He was acting like an idiot, he was an idiot–

"Hey," Dean murmured coming over to sit alongside his brother. He knocked their shoulders together, giving Sam a little shove. "What's up with you little brother,"

And Dean's tone was so soft and worried that Sam wanted to burst into tears. He turned to look at Dean, whose eyebrows were furrowed and wanted to scream, _it shouldn't be me you're worried about, hell it shouldn't even be me who's worried, you shouldn't even be in this situation in the first place, it's all my fault you're-_

Dean, with that innate ability to fix any of Sam's problems, managed to cut off Sam's interior tirade with a soft smile and a crinkling of his eyes. "Sammy," He said, nudging him again, "You know this isn't your fault."

And then Sam got angry, pushing up away from the warm heat of his brother's side, "How can you say that?" He asked loudly, furiously. "How can you possibly say that Dean, of course it's my fault. I was the one who got caught; I was the one who got ki–"

"Stop it Sam." Dean stood up to face his brother, grabbing him by the shoulders. He shook him slightly trying to stop his brother from saying the words, "I...can we not talk about this today? Please? I just..." Sam watched as Dean's face close up and he titled it away, sighing. "I just want a break from it all Sam, even if it's just a day of not thinking about this mess I got us in...That okay?"

Sam blinked rapidly and nodded, saying, "Of course Dean. You should have said something man, course you can take a break–" Dean cut him off with a gloomy look.

"You too Sammy. Can't I just have my goofy, little brother back for a day? I just want a day of not watching you worry...Sam?"

Sam sniffed and subtly tried to dispel the tears that were welling in his eyes and said, "Yeah, yeah, sure man, what did you have planned?"

"Nothing much, just you know, laze around, clean my baby, the usual. Go read a geeky book or something man, just no deal stuff, kay?" Dean said, his eyes lighting up at the fact that he was getting his way. He looked younger Sam thought, when he smiled like that, with his whole face.

"No deal stuff. Got it. Sure man."

Dean clapped him on the shoulder and left the room leaving Sam somewhat bewildered at what he could possibly do today now that his demon deal research had been prohibited. Running his fingers though his unruly hair; he stood up, reaching for his jeans and wondering if Ellen had any _other_ books he could read all the while trying to smother that little voice that screamed, _too little time, too little time_, inside him.

* * *

So far the day had been fairly uneventful if Dean was to say so himself. The hell hounds had made no appearances – _yet_ his mind added snidely – and Dean had been left mostly alone so far throughout the day, so he got a chance to look after his car a little more than usual. Twice Sam came out to see him, once with a drink of water because, _holy hell it's hot out here_, and the second time to call him in for some lunch.

This prospect. This prospect of sitting down at a table with Jo and Ellen and Sam – especially after his little show last night – all together did not sound pleasant. So somewhat embarrassedly he opted out, telling Sam he wasn't hungry and when Sam's eyes got all puppy doggy and worried because _Dean, you're still injured, you need your strength to get better, _he had told him to save a plate for when he was feeling a little more hungry. Sam had reluctantly agreed and slouched back inside somewhat dejectedly and Dean bit his cheek feeling guilty. Shaking his head, Dean continued working on the impala, pulling himself down and under to get a proper look at what needed fixing. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't hear it when Jo sat down beside his hip, resting her back against the impala's door. She tapped his leg, startling him and he pulled out.

"Jesus Jo, scared the frickin' hell outta me," He said, before resting back against the impala. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back and soaked in the pleasant warmth of the sun. After a while he opened his eyes again and noticed the fact that Jo had a plate of grilled cheese and ham sandwiches and a glass of lemonade. "Please tell me that's for me," He groaned as his stomach grumbled loudly and Jo laughed.

"Weeeell," she said, drawing the word out and Dean pouted, trying to ignore the way her skin glowed in the sunlight, trying to ignore the way her t-shirt pulled over the swell of her breasts, trying to ignore the feeling that was stirring deep in his gut. The feeling that could only mean one thing. He shoved it down and spoke again,

"Please Jojo?" He wheedled and laughed boyishly when she relented with a chuckle.

* * *

Sam was hovering by the backdoor.

"Sam! Don't make me tell you again!" Jo threatened pointing her pencil at him, he'd been alternating between reading in the lounge and hovering by the backdoor to check on Dean...every ten minutes, and quite frankly it was distracting her from the crossword that she very nearly had finished.

"Sorry, sorry, it's just he hasn't had lunch yet and I don't want to seem to be harassing him if I go out there again to tell him to..." He trailed off. He looked at Jo suddenly, and _hell no,_ she did **not **like the look on his face.

"Don't even think about it," She warned.

"Please Jo? He won't kill you with a wrench if you go out to him, please?" And oh God, Dean had warned her about the puppy dog eyes and she hadn't believed him, but there they were, in full force and she was melting...goddamit!!!

"Fine," She muttered shoving the crossword away from her and getting up to go to the fridge. She was intercepted by a giant bear hug from Sam.

"Saaam," She wheezed. "Can't...can't breathe!"

Sam let go immediately and with a rue grin rubbed the back of his neck – obviously he'd gotten over the whole I-nearly-killed-you-when-I-was-possessed thing. Good. "Thanks Jo," He said dimples deep in his cheeks and fled the room before she could say anything else.

So grabbing the sandwiches she turned the cooker on and proceeded to toast them until warm and melty. Then she grabbed the lemonade and headed out into the sun to find one Dean Winchester. Barefoot, she padded along the dusty, red path until she found the impala. It took a while for her to realise that Dean wasn't there and then she noticed two legs poking out from underneath. With a smile she thudded down next to him and rested her back against the warm heat of the car door. When it was obvious that Dean hadn't noticed her sit down next to him, she prodded him, grinning as he jumped.

Dean pulled himself out from underneath the car with some difficulty and said, "Jesus Jo, scared the frickin' hell outta me," but Jo didn't hear him, her heart thudded loudly in her chest at the sight of him. Oil was smudged across his right cheek, high on the cheekbone and across his freckles that usually stood out in stark contrast to his skin. Another line was along his neck, disappearing behind his ear and into his hair. His hair was ruffled and mussed from being shoved underneath the car and looked soft to touch, making him look young and roguish. She swallowed thickly as her eyes noted the pink, lushness of his lips that looked plump and swollen from being bitten in concentration and she watched Dean lean against the impala, tilting his head back, revealing the long line of his throat. She followed the curve, noting how the sun gave a warm sheen to his skin where he was sweating lightly, until it disappeared underneath his grey t-shirt that was damp from the heat. His eyes were closed and Jo nearly whined in frustration at having the evergreen eyes being hidden from her gaze until she saw his eyelashes, thick and dark and long where they rested against his cheek as he soaked in the sun.

He turned to look at her then, as if he knew he was being watched and said somewhat excitedly, "Please tell me that's for me," He groaned looking at the plate of sandwiches she held and Jo heard his stomach rumble and laughed.

"Weeeell," she pulled the word out, pretending to think about it and then Dean pouted and all the breath got stuck in her throat at the sight.

"Please Jojo?" He wheedled apparently ignorant of the affect he had upon her. Then he laughed, loud and boyishly when she relented with a forced chuckle and handed the plate and glass over to him.

He groaned again as he bit into the sandwich, head thudding back to rest against the impala and Jo bit her lip. "Good?" She asked mainly to distract herself.

"Very," He mumbled around bites. In the space of a minute the plate of sandwiches was gone and Dean was tilting his head back to drink the lemonade in three long gulps. Jo watched his throat work, watched the bead of sweat that trickled down his neck to soak into his t-shirt, watched him put the glass down and lick the moisture from his lips with the tip of his tongue. And then she nearly died as he put an ice-cube to his lips. She turned away quickly, but not before the image of too pink lips wrapped around the ice-cube was imprinted in her mind. She groaned mentally and swallowed hard, wanting to cry at the fact that she couldn't have him.

He turned to grin at her again, offering her another ice-cube but she shook her head, watching as he shuddered at the coldness in his mouth. "How've you been Jo? I mean after –" His voice was wary as if he didn't really want to know the answer.

"You mean after we had that little run in with that Demon?" When Dean nodded somewhat stoically she replied truthfully. "I was okay. A little shaken up of course, anyone would be after all. But I got through it. I'm okay now. I got through it." She watched as Dean seemed to wince at her words.

"I didn't call." He said not looking at her.

"I didn't expect you to." She replied, biting her lip when Dean winced again. "I didn't mean it like that. I just knew that you had Sam to worry about. I knew that if you called me it would be bad news. Dean, I would have been worried if you had called."

Dean nodded once and then again slowly, still not looking at Jo but she smiled at him anyway. "Come into contact with anymore creepy people eating clowns lately?" Her comment had the desired effect – Dean laughed.

"No. No people eating clowns, but me and Sam nearly got eaten by Pagan Gods acting as Santa Clause and pulling people up chimneys."

"No way!" She exclaimed shoving at him, "I don't believe you!"

"It's true, Sam got his fingernail ripped off and the son-of-a-bitch nearly took one of my teeth before they got interrupted. And see here," He lifted his arm, pointing to a thin but long scar near the crook of his elbow, "I got that one from them taking my blood for the ritual as I was tied up in a chair in their kitchen."

Jo glanced closer at the silvery skin and ran a finger along the line of it. "You got anymore stories to tell me? Anything top that one?" She asked pulling her hand back.

"Well, there was the time when we had the run in with the Trickster we thought we killed a while back."

"Oh yeah? Aren't they some kind of God too?"

"Yeah, something like that,"

"Well what happened?" Jo twisted to face Dean properly trying to ignore the way the sunlight glinted off his eyes.

"Groundhog day is what happened."

"Groundhog day?" She said confusedly, "What like the film? You kept reliving the same day over and over?"

"Yup, that's about right, except it was only Sam who remembers it. Cos apparently the Trickster got too much joy outta killing me over a hundred times." He spoke so plainly and matter-of-factly that Jo had to think about his statement for while before it really sunk in.

"Wait what?" She said quietly, hoping she had heard wrong.

Dean looked at her, one eyebrow quirked in amusement, "I knew this was the wrong story to bring up. It killed me. Over a hundred times, just to teach Sam a lesson but damned if I know what it is."

Jo was silent, her face must have betrayed her horror because Dean said hurriedly, "I don't remember any of it, don't worry. And Sam said some of it was actually pretty funny."

"How can you dying over a hundred times be funny in the slightest?!" Jo said heatedly.

"Well, there was the time I slipped in the shower and broke my neck." Jo said nothing, it was suddenly beginning to dawn upon her that Dean was being serious. "Not funny?" Dean asked.

Jo shook her head once in disagreement and Dean pursed his lips making Jo flush hot all over.

"How about the time when I got ravaged by a dog?" He asked looking back down at Jo.

She shook her head again and he did that thing with his lips, pouting them out and rolling his eyes to the sky in thought.

"Spontaneous combustion?"

"Still not funny."

"Erm...there was the incident with the hookers..."

"You died from having too much sex?!" She squawked indignantly and Dean smiled, eyes crinkling and said, "Gotcha,"

"You bastard," She said shoving him away from her.

"You actually thought that –" Dean watched her face scrunch up in embarrassment and almost face planted into the ground wheezing with laughter. "S...sstop...ssstop it...hurrrts...ribsss," He got out between loud guffaws. Dean was lying on his back when he finally stopped laughing at her and Jo said,

"Alright smart ass, what really happened?"

"Sam got me once actually," Dean said tone nonchalant.

"Sam killed you?!" She screeched.

"Yeah, got me with an axe," He laughed at her expression when she realised he wasn't lying this time and she pouted in response, "It was an accident don't worry,"

"I should hope it was an accident." She mumbled folding her arms and Dean chuckled again, nudging her in the side.

"Meteor from space?" Dean asked dead-panned and Jo's lips twitched. "Oh and then was my all time favourite...death by chicken."

"Seriously?" Jo said eyebrows near her hairline. Her lips twitched again as she threatened to burst into hysterical laughter.

"Seriously."

They were silent for a while then and Jo thought it was peaceful, just sitting beside Dean doing nothing but staring out across the field on the other side of the road.

"I take it Sam talked you into coming out here then," Dean said quietly sighing.

"Yup, over-protective little munchkin,"

"Not so little actually,"

"I suppose,"

"He gave you the puppy dog eyes didn't he?" He said grinning, "I know them well."

"That's not all," She replied smiling back. Dean Winchester's grin was contagious.

"Did he give you the dimples?" He asked eyes alight with amusement, "Aw, he totally did, didn't he? The little bastard, I told you he could get you to do anything he wanted. I've resorted to not looking at him when he tries to pull 'em on me."

"Hugged me too," Jo said grinning up at him.

"Dude this is like major. It took puppy eyes, dimples and a hug to get you? Jesus,"

"Got all up in my space and proper lifted me off the ground."

"That isn't too hard seeing as Sam's a giant sasquatch and you're only teeny tiny!" Dean sniggered and Jo turned a fake glare on him, squinting one of her eyes at him. She pursed her lips and said brandishing a finger at him, "You couldn't take me when we first met Dean Winchester and you can't take me now!"

"Is that so?" Dean asked, a smile playing about his lips.

Jo nodded, smugly and folded her arms.

"Oh it is _so _on little girl!" He said and dove for her. He grabbed at her sides and tickled and Jo squealed, squirming away from him.

"DEAAN!" She yelped squirming away from him, "Duh-duh-deaaaan! Stop it!"

"Nuh-uh," Dean replied "Not until you agree I'm better than you!"

"Never!" She spluttered as she squirmed out of his grasp. Dean watched as she rolled to her knees and up onto her feet and raced around the car. Dean leapt up, following and grabbed an arm before throwing her over his shoulder. He inwardly winced at the strain put on his ribs, but Jo was shrieking and laughing so Dean twirled around and around until they were both dizzy.

Using his temporary dizziness, Jo smacked his ass and Dean yelped letting her fall to the ground with a thud. Dean followed soon after perching himself over her hips and tickling her ribs until she was wheezing and tears rolling down her face.

"I give," She said between guffaws "I give! You're better than me!"

Dean smiled and rolled off her to lie beside her. "I totally am better than you though," Dean said, grin evident in his voice.

"'Course you are Dean, sure."

Dean squinted at her again, "Don't make me tickle you again," He warned and Jo all mock innocence and remorse and replied,

"Sorry, sorry your highness!" She said and then giggled. Dean's laugh broke off as he tried to lever himself up off the ground and Jo giggled harder. "You pull something? Huh, from carrying lil' ol' me?" She snorted, hand over her mouth to keep the laughs inside. But Dean felt his forehead crease as he winced. He gasped as he tried to get up again and murmured a curse before lying back again. His voice was rough when he said, "Ribs," and Jo shot up, eyes wide and serious.

"Oh my gosh, I totally forgot! I'll go get Sam," Her expression was so comically worried that Dean huffed out a laugh and then winced at the pain.

"Nuh-no! Jo don't," He wheezed and reached out to grab her wrist. She knelt down, and leant over him, face serious and mutinous. "He'll throw a paddy and go mental and I just want-" He broke off and sighed looking away.

"What?" Jo asked and Dean could just tell without looking at her that her face was creased with worry.

"Aw, shit Jo, I just want a few days with a non-nagging, non bitchy little brother who actually talks to me about stuff other than the hunt or, how he's feeling or how I'm feeling. If you go in there and yell that I'm stuck on the floor he's gonna blow and my chance at a normal last-" He broke off again and swore. He pressed his hands to his ribs, pretending that the pain had distracted him when really he just stopped himself saying that he wanted a chance at a normal last few weeks alive.

"Shit I'm gonna get Sam anyway," She said and stood up.

"No," Dean said frantic and grabbed at her ankle. "Please Jo," He said, pulling his own version of the puppy dog eyes and sighed in relief when she crumbled.

"Alright, fine, but you're coming inside with me anyway,"

"Just help me up," Dean replied and Jo complied, reaching down and gripping Dean's outstretched hand. He winced when she levered him up and he sagged against her, stretching to grab at the impala for more support. His breath came fast and quick and he could feel sweat prickling along his forehead at the effort.

"And you're taking some pain pills...you should've known better Dean," Jo says, letting go of him when she thinks he's steady enough.

"Yeah, well you know me," Dean replied with a quick smile.

"Come on," She said nodding towards the house, "Let's go inside,"

"Promise you won't tell Sam?" Dean asked pulling the puppy dog eyes on her again and she groaned, rolling her head back and whined.

"Deaaaan, don't _do_ that," She grumbled.

"Does that mean you won't tell Sam?" He asked smiling wolfishly.

"Fine, but no more puppy eyes!" She said pointing a finger at him.

"Cross my heart," Dean replied. _And hope to die._

* * *

While Jo may have kept her promise and not told Sam about Dean's little paralysed episode outside, she did however take all his alcohol and forced pain pills down his throat whenever possible. And as Sam had turned in early for the night Dean had taken to glaring at her from across the bar where she was serving other customers and making her job all the harder by knocking things over. Dean watched her amble around the room, tray in one hand with beer and shots on it and a cloth in the other. She smiled and laughed at something one of the men said and put the tray down, shaking her head when he offered her a shot. She was a little drunk, but not enough to make her anything other than chatty and happy. She glanced over at Dean who smiled wide and waggled his fingers at her and Jo just rolled her eyes and walked away to another customer.

So feeling abandoned and too alcohol free – although he was feeling a little loopy from all he pain pills Jo had force-fed him – he knocked over another glass of water. When Jo marched up to him at the sound of a glass clunking onto the table, Dean looked up at her all wide eyed and innocent and Jo just grabbed his collar and heaved him out of his seat. The wolf whistles and catcalls that Dean got as he was dragged forcibly outside by the shirt made him grin and he stumbled along playing up to the bar and Jo shoved him outside.

The door shut with a bang and Jo whirled on him.

"Are you trying to be annoying?! Purposely?! Because I hope you realise that I will go back on my promise and tell Sam you were practically catatonic outside today!"

"Aw come on Jo," Dean whined, "It was an accident. I swear!"

"Sure because, Mr Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire is clumsy enough to knock over ten glasses of water!"

"It was only six, and the first two really were accidents!" Dean replied earnestly.

"I don't even care. I swear to god Dean, you spill another drink, you so much as blink at one of the customers in the wrong way, I will _**beat **_your ass!"

Dean pressed his back against the wall of the Roadhouse as Jo pointed a finger menacingly at him. She had gotten closer and closer with each word until Dean had met wall and found himself very close to one Joanna Harvelle. He ignored the voice in his head that was calling for him to push away and forget Jo and her pink mouth but instead he said,

"Kinky," And watched her shiver as his breath puffed over her lips. She squinted her eyes at him and said,

"You're just jealous that there are no women to fawn over you and from all the attention I'm getting from the customers," She replied flicking her hair over her shoulder.

And hell, she was right. Because every time Dean had knocked over a glass it had been to pull Jo away from the men's leering eyes and the meaty hands that had been about to grab her ass or breasts. He had been jealous. Really, _really_ fucking jealous. And he'd only just realised it. _Aw hell. _And before he could think better of it he leant down towards her ear to speak.

"You're right," Dean breathed and Jo startled because she had only been half-joking, "I was jealous," And before he could think better of it he leaned back to look at her face and captured her lips in a kiss.

Jo made a noise at the back of her throat and reached up gripping his shoulders, and Dean leant forwards, placing two hands high on her back. He slanted his mouth over hers, licking her lips apart and groaned when she kissed him back. Small hesitant flicks of her tongue against his own which made Dean growl deep and low in his throat. He turned, pressing her against the wall of the Roadhouse and thrusting a leg between her thighs. Jo gasped into Dean's mouth as she found him pressed against her and she leant up to wind her fingers into the downy hair at the nape of his neck.

As Jo grasped at his neck, Dean gripped her waist and lifted her off the floor and felt her wrap her legs around his hips and rock down against him. He growled and nipped at her bottom lip before breaking off for air and then kiss and suck at her neck.

"Dean," Jo breathed as he nibbled along her jaw up to her earlobe and bit down gently. "Oh Christ, Dean," She said and pulled his mouth back to hers.

Dean complied and sucked on her tongue, revelling in the soft sounds of her whimpers and moans, relishing in the way that her body arched towards him when he pulled back teasingly. She growled at him and Dean relented, pulling her mouth to his again and kissing and licking into her once again.

The door to the Roadhouse banged open and raucous laughter could be heard as a group of three stumbled out into the night. Dean pulled his lips from Jo's with a slick noise and the reality of the situation finally hit him.

This was Jo he was kissing, had pressed up against the wall. These were Jo's legs that were wrapped so tightly around his hips. Dean shouldn't be doing this, not with her, not with someone who meant so much to him, not when he only had less than a few weeks left alive.

"Shit," He said, voice rough and untangled Jo's legs from around his hips. He placed her back on the floor and stumbled back a step.

"Dean," Jo began, lips swollen and slick from their kissing. Her eyes were worried, confused starting to look hurt when Dean said,

"Shit, shit Jo, I'm sorry I shouldn't have," He took another wavering step away from her and raised a hand and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Dean," Jo said again, voice a little harder. She took a step toward him and reached out, but Dean flinched away and she stopped eyes shocked. "What's wrong? Hey I wanted it okay–"

"I can't–" Dean began again and then took another step away from Jo "I can't do this, you're drunk, I'm high on pain meds, now is not the time."

"It's not just up to you! What about me? Don't I get a say in the matter?"

"No, you don't. Sorry Jo." Dean said and took another step away.

"Why? Why the fuck not? You want me, I want you, so what's your fucking problem?" Her voice was angry and her face was confused.

"It was a mistake. Sorry. I thought–" Dean said voice hard, ignoring the way hurt seemed to bloom in Jo's eyes.

And that look was something he had never wanted to see let alone cause, so Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire, Mr- I'm-not-afraid-of-anything-except-the-teddy-bear-from-that-fabric-softener-advert turned around and legged it to the impala like the little whiney ass girl he was.

Which was why Dean currently found himself stumbling down the road away from the bar (god knows how many miles away from Jo and Sam and the Roadhouse) too blind drunk to even consider calling his brother because he could barely walk, let alone drive his baby.

The bartender had chucked him out and not really knowing where the hell he was, Dean had just picked a random direction and started walking. That had been about an hour or so ago and Dean still had no idea where the hell he was, had just been stumbling down the road, mumbling like an incoherent drunk. Which he was. But that _so _wasn't the point. The point was that he was a major idiot. The point was that he had just totally and completely fucked himself over by practically ravishing Jo and then telling her she was a mistake. The point was –

"Hey lookit there's totally a frog at the side of the road," Dean slurred grinning from ear to ear. He waved his arms, flailing a little as he staggered towards the little frog sat in the grass, which was probably staring at him in horror, fearing for its life.

"Hey dude. You mind if I sit here? Course not you're a frog, heh, a frog...heh heh...I'm an idiot...do you know why I'm an idiot Mr. Frog? No? I'm an idiot 'cos I totally just made out with this chick who's probably gonna beat my ass when I see her next and never speak to me again but that doesn't really matter 'cos I'm totally going to hell 'cos my brother died and I sold my soul and...hey lookit, where'd you go?"

Dean shook his head drunkenly from side to side in an attempt to find his friend. He stood up and flailing his arms in an attempt to stay upright then proceeded to slump back down onto the grass when the world started tilting.

"Dude..." He whined long and high, "I got ditched by a frog..." Dean said to himself, "So not cool..."

And Dean couldn't even get off the floor so contented himself with just staring at the sky. All was quiet, the night was calm and cool and the slight breeze that ruffled Dean's hair was cool on his hot skin. He could see the stars as he lay back against the grass and blinked dazedly up until the silence of the night was interrupted with a blaring noise. Dean startled, jolting upright at the sound. He floundered for a moment trying to find the source of the sound and then whined, "Duuude. Why's my ass singing at me?"

It took Dean, in his inebriated state, three repeats of the song to realise that 'hey that's totally my phone!' so in a fumbled attempt, Dean grabbed the black mobile, pressed the glowey button and said:

"Hey phone, what's up with you today?"

"Dean?!" Sam's voice barked out loud and brash over the phone.

"Saaaaammy? Sammy s'that you? How'd you get into my phone man?"

"You're phone, what? Jesus Dean are you drunk?"

"As a skunk, heh...drunk as a skunk...heh heh skunk..." Dean trailed off watching as a bug crawled along his jeans and it took him a while to realise that he was still being spoken to.

"–are you?"

"Duuuude Sammy, hey man how're you?" Dean said oblivious to the worry in Sam's tone.

"Dean, where the hell are you? What happened, are you alright? Are you hurt? Are you–" Dean cut him off, grinning as he noticed that the frog had returned and said loudly, "Duuude you came back, thanks man!"

"Dean what–"

"I'm good Sammy, sittin' here with my frog chillin' out, shootin' the shit–"

"Frog? Dean, just tell me where you are man and I'll come get you,"

"I don't know where I am man," Dean replied far too cheerful.

"Well where have you been?" Dean thought Sam sounded way too worried and figured that if he didn't calm down his head might explode.

"Calm down Sammy, you don't want your head to explode," He said and squashed the beetle on his knee. "Ewww," He mumbled as Sam growled out incredulously,

"Head explode?! Are you fucking high Dean?"

"No," He replied confusedly, "I'm on the floor,"

"Dean-just-fucking-tell-me-where-you-are!"

"I just picked a direction and went! The impal...impalal...m' baby's still at the bar,"

"Bar? What bar, Dean!" Sam's voice came louder than before and startled Dean, "Dean, what bar?"

"Huh, I dunno Sammy nearest one. Stop talking so loud I'm sleepy...I'm gonna sleep now Sammy, mkay?" Dean said and flopped back onto the grass, he let the phone go and it landed nearby his head so he could still hear Sam's next words.

"No Dean, do not go to sleep. Jesus, what the hell were you thinking going out and getting drunk. Shit, just stay right there, I'm tracking the GPS in your phone. I'm on my way to come get you."

"You're tracking my GP-what now?" He said and turned over to sleep.

* * *

"No Dean, do not go to sleep. Jesus, what the hell were you thinking going out and getting drunk. Shit, just stay right there, I'm tracking the GPS in your phone. I'm on my way to come get you." Sam said, grabbing the keys to Jo's car from the table where she'd placed them.

"You're tracking my GP-what now?" Dean sing-songed over the line.

"GPS, now just fucking stay where you are Dean," Sam said and when no answer came he swore and switched the phone off. He turned to Ellen and Jo who were both sat with equal looks of worry across from him at the kitchen table. "He's about eleven miles out in the middle of nowhere sat at the side of the road. Shit," Sam said, standing up and running his fingers through his hair. "What the hell happened Jo, did you have an argument or–" He looked at Jo expectantly as did Ellen and Jo seemed to shrink in her seat as she mumbled somewhat stoically, "Yeah. An argument."

"Fuck I gotta go get him," He said, "You probably won't want to see him like this. Dean sounded absolutely piss-blind-drunk on the phone. He's in the cheerful stage right now, and by the time I get him back he's gonna be irritable and fucking puking everywhere. I swear to god I'm gonna murder him,"

* * *

Dean had fallen asleep and been quite comfortable curled up in the grass when the rumbling of a car propelled him into full, or rather drunken awareness. When Sam stepped out of the car that so wasn't the impala Dean grinned, toothily and said "Saaaammy, hey, what're you doing here?"

"Fucking hell Dean!" Sam growled and grabbed at Dean's shoulder heaving him up off the grass. The world tilted and his stomach revolved and Dean gulped against the urge to throw up.

"Hey watch out for the frog dude, he's my bestest buddy." Dean was speaking over Sam, ignorant of the fact that his brother seemed to be about to smack him across the face. He looked up at Sam and saw his lips moving, and it took a moment but Dean finally began to understand what his brother was saying,

"–kill him, I'm going to fucking kill him and burn the body then bring him back and fucking kill him again–" Dean grinned not understanding who Sam was wanting to kill. So poking his tongue out slightly from between his teeth, Dean beamed and said, "Can I help?"

* * *

"Can I help?"

Sam looked down and saw his brother's face, happy and open and boyish and it dispelled his anger for a moment until he realised the worry that Dean had put him through and said,

"No you fucking can't cos it's you I'm gonna fucking kill!" He snarled and shoved Dean headfirst into the car. Slamming the door behind Dean's feet, Sam marched around to the driver's door and slammed that too for good measure. "Fucking sat at the side of the road in the middle of fucking nowhere-" He muttered ignoring the squawk Dean gave when the car jolted into motion. Sam pulled a u-turn with angry, jerky motions and when they were back onto the road leading to the Roadhouse he whipped his head to stare at Dean and growled, "What the fuck were you thinking? Where the fuck did you go for four hours!?"

"To a bar," Dean replied sniggering at Sam's angry expression.

"Yes I know you went to a bar you idiot but why the hell are you this drunk?! Jo said you two had an argument, s'that right?" Sam asked.

"Argument. Right. Fucking Jo and her fucking alcohol," Dean said and levered himself up. "I don't wanna go back to the Roadhouse, I wanna go back to my frog...he was nice to me...meanie..." Dean grumbled thumping his head against the window.

"Stop that Dean," Sam growled and grabbed Dean's shoulder and pulled him up and off the window. "We're here now, so shut the fuck up and don't vomit on anyone,"

"Duuuude why'd you have to mention vooomit?" Dean said rolling his head to look at Sam. Apparently Dean's neck no longer worked because when Sam stopped the car- albeit with a little more force than necessary – Dean almost face-planted into the dash-board and only Sam's swiftness caught him in time. "Get off me!" Dean growled shoving at Sam and oh dear, they'd finally progressed onto the angry stage. "Fucking get off me Sam, don't put your monkey hands on me! I wanna go back to my frog!"

Now that was uncalled for – just because Sam was bigger than Dean didn't mean he had monkey hands. So Sam watched half amused, half still ready to throttle Dean, as his brother opened the door and fell out, and didn't offer to help him off the floor. It was only when Dean proceeded to drag himself up and stumble away from Sam and the Roadhouse towards the road again, that Sam levered himself out of the car and sprinted after him. He grabbed Dean's arm and didn't expect it when Dean's flailing resulted in a hand being thwapped across his face. Pain blossomed and blood spilt down his cheek and Sam realised that Dean had moved onto the violent stage in a matter of minutes. _Fucking asshole. _So Sam dodged the flail that Dean aimed his way and used his brother's momentum to pull him over his shoulder.

"Put me the FUCK down Sam," Dean yelled, hands and fists jabbing at his back. "I meeean it, put me the fuck down or I'll fucking beat your skinny ass!" Sam burst through the door the Roadhouse, sighing when he saw that Ellen and Jo had ignored his warning to go to bed and knew Dean was gonna be an asshole about it.

They looked shocked, comically so at the sight of him with Dean over his shoulder. Ellen's face dropped and her mouth opened slightly in surprise as she took in the scene before her. And Jo flushed scarlet red as she saw the way Dean was apparently incapable of walking. They looked somewhat amused until Dean started swearing and they noticed Sam's bleeding nose.

"Fucking put me down you fucking cunt! I'll fucking murder you!" And Sam yelped as Dean jabbed him hard in the side.

"Ow, Jesus. Shut the _fuck_ up Dean," Sam replied 'accidentally' banging him into a chair in response to the side jab.

"You little shit!" Dean was still yelling, grabbing at his hair and pulling and as an elbow found its way to the back of Sam's head so he dropped Dean unceremoniously onto the floor. "FUCKER!" Dean squawked again, before trying to pull himself up. After three attempts Dean finally managed to get upright and proceeded to shove Sam with as much force as he could muster.

Sam sighed.

"Dean I swear to god, fucking shove me one more time and I'm gonna–" The next shove came out of nowhere and pushed Sam onto his ass and too surprised to do anything but sit there Sam watched as Dean turned around and staggered for the door. Sam levered himself up quickly but he needn't have worried as Dean practically face-planted onto the floor again.

"Fucking hell Dean!" He said grabbing his brother and pulling him into a nearby booth. He shoved at Dean who squinted at him and glared before falling asleep almost instantaneously.

"What the hell," Ellen said. "What in god's name was that?" She asked sitting down heavily with a thud.

"That," Sam said pointing over his shoulder as he joined the two women by the bar, "Is out of his mind, angry as fuck, blind drunk Dean. Something you probably wished you'd never seen."

"True," Ellen said and then turned to her daughter, "What on earth did you say to get him _this _worked up?"

Jo startled, looking away from Dean and turned to face Ellen and Sam. She hesitated, Sam noticed before saying, "Stupid stuff, hunting stuff..."

"Right," Ellen said somewhat unbelieving and raised an eyebrow.

"I've never seen him get this drunk before, not even when Dad died." Sam said watching Jo's reaction and when she flinched subtly he knew.

Dean liked Jo.

Jo liked Dean.

Dean thought he was going to die in a few weeks.

And kaboom, hello angry, drunk Dean.

Fuck.

"Shoulda seen him when he was still cheerful though. Abso-fucking-lutely hilarious. The things he gets up to when inebriated."

Ellen smiled a little fondly and asked, "He gonna be alright?"

"Apart from a hangover from hell and the added strain on his ribs from me carrying him, I think he'll be fine." Sam said somewhat calmly – although the knowledge that he may have injured Dean further, when he had so little time left anyway made his gut clench painfully.

"I made him take a load of pain killers though and mixed with all that alcohol–" Jo trailed off worriedly and Sam whipped his head around to stare at her incredulously.

"What do you mean you made him take a load of pills? Why?!"

Jo blushed under Sam's intense glare and mumbled, "We were...fooling around outside today; I was teasing him so he grabbed me and put me on his shoulder. Hurt his ribs so much that he couldn't get up when we fell on the floor. He made me promise not to tell you but I think I have to let you know."

"The bastard," Sam muttered running a hand over his face. "He'll have to throw it all back up. Have you got a bucket I could commandeer for the night, seeing as I'll probably have to stay up with him and make sure he doesn't drown in his own vomit?"

"Yeah Sam, I got one behind the bar," Ellen said standing up to retrieve it. She returned just in time because Dean groaned, shuddering in his seat before shooting upright and turning green.

"Gonna. Sick. Vomit." Dean said gagging before leaning forwards to grab at the bucket in Sam's hand.

"Oh, ew," Sam said holding the bucket up to Dean's face and leaning away at the same time, "That's nasty man," But despite the smell and _(ewww) _sound Sam placed a hand on Dean's back, rubbing soothingly through the spasms and gagging that jolted through Dean's body. When he finished, Dean slumped back into the chair, face white, and Sam thought _finally, finally he's gonna sober up a little now and tell me what the fuck happened, _but Dean just blinked up at him with big, wide eyes and said, somewhat endearingly "My head hurts Sammy," Sam rolled his eyes mentally at the big, doe-eyed look Dean was giving him.

"Not gonna work Dean, you're still in deep shit," Sam replied, rubbing his back one last time before getting up to dispose of the bucket. When he returned Dean was grinning, tongue poking out from between his teeth, eyes twinkling at his attempt to escape the wrath of the sasquatch – as Dean would put it.

"But Saaaaammy," He whined, "My head really does huuurt!" He pouted a little and sniffed. He was the picture of adorable and Sam was not falling for it. Jo and Ellen on the other hand, Sam wasn't so sure about so he turned, groaning when he saw equal looks of 'aw' on their faces and said, "Don't fall for it! He knows what he's doing, don't believe this cute act for a minute!"

And that alerted to Dean the presence of others in the room. He peered around Sam, who could tell the moment he saw Ellen stood behind him from the little squeak of glee he let out.

"Ellen!" He sing-songed, "When'd you get here?"

Sam rolled his eyes and Ellen snorted sitting down in front of Dean. "Been here the whole time hun," She replied and Sam squinted his eyes at her in warning – _don't fall for it!_

"Gimme that!" He squawked making grabby hands at the glass of water Ellen held and Sam watched as she passed him the water, smiling a little incredulously and glancing at Sam as if to say, _is this real? How can he go from being angry to happy in the space of two minutes? _And Sam replied with an eye roll as Dean gargled the water then spat it into the bucket. He repeated the action until he nearly choked and coughed, spluttering indignantly when Sam laughed and said, "Serves you right, asshole,"

"Hey," Dean whined, pouting his lips some more "You're the asshole, asshole. Took me away from my frog..." He muttered, folding his arms across his chest and slumping down in the booth.

"How're you feeling Dean?" Ellen enquired, leaning across the table. Sam noticed somewhat amusedly that she leant back almost immediately when she caught the smell of vomit emanating from Dean.

"Tired," Dean said truthfully and then yawned as if to prove his point.

"You better go to sleep then, hun,"

"M'kay," Dean replied, blinking owlishly at her and snuffling.

And oh god, Dean was doing the adorable thing now. Jesus. Like that would distract Sam from kicking his ass when he woke up tomorrow. He was still angry at Dean, he'd been worried out of his mind when Jo had burst into his room all wide eyed and flushed saying that Dean had taken off a while ago and still wasn't back yet. The fear that had shot through Sam had woken him immediately. Thoughts of hellhounds and the crossroad demon coming to collect early provoked Sam into leaping from his bed and into action. When he realised that Dean had just gone on a bender his worry had faded into anger. But it was hard to maintain when Dean was acting like a little kid hopped up on sugar.

Sam realised that he wouldn't be getting any information out of his brother anytime soon tonight as he was snoring softly at his side, so he turned his attention onto Jo who was still stood across the bar, expression blank. She caught Sam's gaze and flushed looking away from Dean, whose face was smushed into the table from where he had passed out.

"You need any help getting him into bed Sam?" Ellen asked

"No, I'll be fine. I've carried his heavy ass around more than enough to be used to it now." Sam replied with a quick smile. "Thanks for waiting up, I'll see you tomorrow, today, rather," He said looking at his watch. Dean had been gone, missing for over four and a half hours and Sam had been in a state of shock for the whole time and sleep sounded good right about now.

So with a sigh he stood up, gripped Dean's shoulder and tugged him towards the edge of the booth. Apart from making more snuffling noises, Dean stayed unconscious, copious amounts of alcohol would do that to a guy. With a grunt, Sam levered Dean into his arms, rather than over his shoulder to avoid aggravating his ribs even more, and nodded at Jo and Ellen in goodnight.

He tipped Dean onto the bed, pulling his brother's boots and jeans off before tugging the duvet over his prone form. And before his mind could go into a state of shock again, or start whirring with worry, Sam clambered into his own bed and went to sleep.

* * *

A/N: There you go, hope you liked it all. Reviews are my food so tell me what you think!!!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Phew! That took way too long. Sorry about the super long delay guys, I've just had so much work to get done for uni. Hope you think this is alright anyway. And please, tell me what you think!

* * *

CHAPTER 3

* * *

_Dude_, Dean thought when he cracked his eyes open. _What the hell happened last night?_ Did he inject alcohol into his bloodstream or something? Because his head was pounding like a group of hopped up howler monkeys that had some bongo drums and were enjoying them a little too much for Dean's liking, considering his present state. The moment he opened his eyes though, he snapped them shut again as light seared across his vision, slicing into his brain like a serrated knife.

Dean hissed in pain and rolled over, away from the brightness. When he attempted to sit up, the room spun and swirled before his eyes and a hand flew up, clasping his forehead as he fought the urge to vomit. When his stomach settled he moved again, slower this time, using the bed as leverage to get on his feet and he stood swaying by the side of the bed. It took him a moment to realise that he was only in his boxers, which meant someone must have put him to bed last night after...wait what did happen last night?

He racked his brain, thinking carefully about the last thing he could remember and pulling up a blank on all levels. So with a huff of annoyance Dean leant forwards, eyes shut against the head rush and fumbled in his duffle for a pair of jeans. Straightening again, Dean put a hand to his head, feeling hot and achy and sighed. He pulled his jeans on blearily and turned, hoping to grab a shower before he saw anyone.

So when he opened the door to his bedroom, all dishevelled and rumpled he prayed that he wouldn't come face to face with an angry Sasquatch. His prayers were answered thankfully and he slipped quietly, albeit slowly into the bathroom across the hall. The door clicked softly shut and Dean didn't even think to lock it, just turned to the shower, fumbling for the cold water tap and shucked his jeans and boxers off.

The water was cool and pleasant against his skin and Dean tilted his head back, eyes shut and let the water pound against his face as he leant an arm against the tiled wall. He stayed that way, motionless and quiet for a while longer and then, when he began to shiver, and the throbbing in his head reduced slightly, he twisted the hot water on and set about washing the grime of his forgotten escapades from last night off his skin.

He didn't hear the door open.

* * *

Jo looked up from her crossword when her mother walked into the room shaking her head.

"Hey Mom, what's the matter," she asked, placing her pen and paper down and jumping up to sit on the bar.

"I just can't find any of the towels, hun, it's okay I'm sure I put them somewhere–"

"Oh no, I put them in the guest bathroom. For Sam and Dean," Jo replied, cutting her mother of mid thought. "You want me to go get some?"

"Yeah, hun, that'd be great, I'm just so swamped." Ellen smiled, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her daughter's ear. "Thanks,"

"S'okay," Jo said and turned, heading for the spare bathroom. It didn't really register in her mind that someone was using the shower until she was in the steam filled room itself.

She stopped dead in her tracks, letting the door swing shut and stared dumbly at non other than Dean Winchester, the man she had locked lips with the night before. And now here he was, stark naked in the shower, all smooth tan skin and rippling muscles. She watched through the fogged glass door of the shower as water sluiced down across his body and she followed the trail down, down, lower and lower. She watched as water ran down his chest, over his ribs, until it dipped lower, past his hips to – She pulled her gaze up quickly from the first hint of dark hair at the base of his hips and took a shuddering step back, hitting the door with a quiet thud and cringed, unable to move when Dean turned the shower off and fumbled for a towel.

He wrapped the blue fluffy towel around his slim hips and turned, stepping out of the shower all smooth skin, steaming from the heat of the water. He had his eyes closed; one hand kneading his forehead but something must have niggled at his hunter senses because Jo watched with dread as he dropped his hand quickly, shoulders tensing. Jo wished she could just die. Or slip very, very quietly and very, very quickly out of this room...which was getting increasingly warmer because. Hello! Practically naked Dean in front of her!!! Jo managed to think this in the time it took Dean to get out of the shower and realise there was someone in the room with him, which really said something about how nervous she really was...and more importantly how embarrassed she was. But when Dean opened his eyes, Jo had her back turned and was saying, 'Sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean to I swear!"

"Jesus Jo, if you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask," Dean drawled from behind her and Jo flushed right down to her toes.

"That's not true! Shut up! I'm just here to collect some towels for Mom," She replied haughtily, back still turned. She threw a hand out behind her and said, "Gimme some. And I'm not turning around because I don't want to be traumatised for the rest of my life," _It has nothing to do with the fact that I'll probably turn into a pile of goo if I see him partially naked again. Not at all. _

"Sure, Jojo, I believe you," He said, a smile evident in his voice, "But it's okay, I've got pants on now,"

"Really?" Jo said doubtfully, because she wouldn't put it past him to be just stood there wearing nothing at all.

"Really." Dean replied.

There was a moments silence as Jo considered her possibilities and finally she said, "I don't believe you."

"Oh, for Christssake Jo, here," He said, and shoved a handful of towels over her shoulder and shoved past her, his right hand kneading at his forehead again. She watched, bewildered as Dean strode into his and Sam's bedroom, shutting the door without a seconds glance at her and Jo felt cold inside. What had he just forgotten last night? Pushed it from his memories because it – she was that bad? And then Jo felt angry, because this blatant dismissal was so uncalled for.

Dean jolted and spun around in shock as Jo stomped into the room letting the door close with a heavy thud. He had a t-shirt in his hands and was staring at Jo like she had just grown another head.

"What the hell is your problem?" Jo hissed, trying to stay quiet, because she didn't want an audience for this conversation. Hell her mother didn't even know, and she wanted it to stay that way.

Dean snorted, pulling his faded blue t-shirt over his head to settle, perfectly over the curve of his muscles. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific there, and can you stop shouting,"

"You know exactly what I mean! What happened last night! I still can't believe you just made that decision for me–"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Dean said, holding his hands up, his face the picture of confused. "What the hell are _you _talking about? What decision did I make for you?" His eyebrows were quirked up in confusion.

"Are you trying to tell me you don't remember because you drank too much goddamn WHISKEY?!"

"Shit, calm the hell down. I can't even remember _why _I went out last night to get drunk when there's a perfectly good bar down the hall, and now you're shouting at me about a decision I 'supposedly' made for you and I can't even remember!!!" Dean hissed back at her, eyes narrowed to slits.

"Please, are you trying to tell me you don't remember kissing me last night?" Jo scoffed, folding her arms and rolling her eyes.

There was a beat of silence. Jo looked up then, embarrassed because Dean really _didn't _remember.

"I kissed you?" He asked voice quiet.

There was another beat of silence. Jo dropped her arms and bit her lip, not meeting Dean's eyes.

"Um, yeah." Her face flushed hotly, hurt that Dean didn't remember, and embarrassed because she had spoken so bluntly.

"Oh," His face was open and a little stunned but, thankfully not nauseated at the concept.

"Yeah,"

The silence this time dragged.

Jo looked at her feet, her face red from embarrassment and not looking at Dean said, "Don't worry about it, it was nothing. A mistake. Sorry, I'll just-,"

She was turning to go, shame flooding through her when a hand, soft and hesitant touched her shoulder. She stopped, her hand reaching for the door knob and Dean turned her around. His face was tilted down to her level. He was biting his bottom lip, worrying at the pink flesh.

"What ever," He said softly, eyes lowered, lashes kissing his cheeks. "What ever happened last night, it wasn't a mistake."

And then he kissed her, big, warm hands framing her face.

All that Jo could think, when Dean pulled away, was that the kiss hadn't lasted long enough, so it wasn't her fault that a tiny whimper escaped her mouth and she tried to follow his lips when he pulled away with a slick noise.

"Jo," He said eyes wide and for some reason he looked panicked as if he finally remembered why he had gone out and gotten drunk last night. The hell if she knew why this couldn't happen. "Jo I can't, not now," His breath sucked in fast and he took a step back away from her. Jo tilted her head to the side, confused and hurt but Dean had not said he didn't feel the same way.

With a deep breath she stepped towards him, stepped into his space and felt the warmth radiating from him. She reached up to touch his face, to cup her fingers around his jaw and rub a drop of water from his cheek with her thumb. At the contact Dean shut his eyes, biting his already swollen bottom lip. He took another deep shuddering breath as Jo leaned up, tugging on his neck and kissed him.

This time the kiss was longer.

It wasn't a drunken/high on-pain-meds fumbling kiss.

It wasn't chaste and too short.

It was everything she had thought it would be and nothing like it at the same time.

Dean's lips were soft and warm, and Jo pressed forwards, leaning her body into the furnace that was his body and kissed him harder. She licked at his mouth, tasting his pink lips and tugging at his plush bottom lip wanting to get deeper, deeper into this man before her. She brought her other hand up to capture his face, to keep him with her and shuddered when Dean wound a hand into the hair at the nape of her neck. She breathed a sigh against his mouth and suddenly he pressed down against her, licking at her mouth.

And then he stopped suddenly.

She should have realised that it was too good to be true.

She should have realised he would pull away.

He used the hand wound in her locks to dislodge her lips from his and he looked pained.

When Dean pulled away, put his hands on the tops of her arms – like a brother would a sister – she flushed. This rejection, his rejection of her struck her hard and fast in the gut. She sniffed and blinked back tears and pulled out of his grip. It didn't help that the expression on his face was anguished and pain-filled.

"Jo," Dean said, fingers like brands against her skin. "Jo," He said again, his voice rough and it told her a thousand things. And then he moved, dragging his hands to her face, tracing her brow and cheeks with calloused fingers, with devotion. She looked at him and he was flushed, eyes bright, fever-like with pupils blown wide and black leaving only a thin ring of evergreen to sparkle in the sun. Jo almost moaned when Dean wrapped his fingers into her hair again, this time to pull her to him. Dean smelt of soap and musk and he was perfect.

His lips were hot and slick as he licked his way into her mouth, pulling on her bottom lip and sucking on her tongue. Shock and pleasure thrummed through her as Dean pulled her, tugged her body until it was flush against his, and Dean was all hard lines and smooth, damp muscles. He looked wild. Wild and beautiful.

She touched him then, bringing her hands up to fist at the nape of his neck, to grip his bare shoulders and feel the muscle there, feel the power that pulsed through his body. And Dean groaned, sliding a big, warm palm down her spine to rest at the small of her back. His other hand gripped her leg, pulling her flush against him. But most importantly was the fact that Jo could taste him and _**Dean**_ was _**kissing**_ her, _**devouring**_ her.

He was kissing her like he wanted to climb inside her.

He was kissing her like it was the end of the world and she was his salvation.

He was kissing her like he was saying goodbye.

* * *

"Jo," Dean said as he gripped her tightly, trying to ground himself because he couldn't, he couldn't, "Jo," He repeated somewhat brokenly as he touched her face. He traced her brow, followed the curve of her cheeks. Then wrapped his fingers into her smooth, blonde hair and stared at her. He stared at her flushed face and slanted eyes framed with thick, dark lashes. Stared at her lips, at the way they parted when he leaned towards her, breathing her scent in.

Then before he could stop himself, Dean found himself kissing her. He licked at her mouth, at her cupids bow and bottom lip, relishing in the shudder that shook her body and pulled her against him, feeling her all soft curves and long lines. He couldn't do this, but he had to, he had to because–

He was against the door and Jo was against him. He slanted his mouth over hers, and groaned into her mouth when she reached up to touch him. Jo's fingers were hesitant as they fisted in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. They trembled when they gripped his bare shoulders and held on, and Dean could tell she was unsure if he meant this. So he touched her back, smoothing a hand down her spine to rest at the curve at the base of her back, just above the swell of her ass. His other hand gripped a leg and pulled her up flush against his hips so she could feel that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. And Jo gasped and shuddered, rocking her hips against his.

Dean gasped into her mouth, pulling away from those lips with a slick sound and latched onto her neck, licking and kissing and biting his way down to her collar bone under her strappy red top. She whimpered as he nibbled on the space where her neck met shoulder and sucked a bruise there.

"Dean," she gasped, and her voice was rough and rung out, "Dean, oh god," she fumbled to touch his face.

Dean closed his eyes at the touch of her fingers curving around his jaw, at the feel of her hot palms on his cheeks and thumbs stroking underneath his eyes. He looked up, through his eyelashes and licked his lips watching as she shuddered and tracked the movement of his tongue. So he did it again. He flicked his tongue out across his bottom lip and then sunk his teeth in.

This time it was Jo who devoured him. She licked over the plump fullness that was his bottom lip, sucking at it and biting down gently before pulling back and saying unevenly, "Dean," Jo sighed as he kissed the corner of her mouth in response, "Dean, I need you,"

Dean arched his back at the admission, pushing himself closer to her, clenching his eyes closed because, because he couldn't. It would make everything so much harder, leaving two people he loved behind. Dean didn't know if he could deal with the idea of leaving Jo when his deal came due, didn't know if he could deal with the effect his death would have on her as he was in the pit. He couldn't do this to her, couldn't, he couldn't, but...

"Jo," He whispered brokenly against her neck.

Jo's body jerked against the way his voice sounded murmured against her skin and she pulled his face up, pulled his face up to hers and said, "Dean,"

"Jo," His voice was broken and her hands touched the back of his head. "Jo if you knew, you wouldn't. I can't do it to you, not when I know what will happen, what it'll do to you,"

"Dean, what?" She began and worry was creeping into her voice, and fear. Fear that Dean was about to pull away. "Is this because of my Mom, cos she'll cool down eventually you know," He could see Jo hoping that he would stay, that this would happen between them and Dean could do nothing but step away. He saw the hurt of his actions thrum through her

"It's not that and if I wasn't I would...but I can't," He said knowing full well that, that sentence had made no sense whatsoever.

"That made no sense." Jo spoke and she was still harbouring hope in her voice.

"It wasn't supposed to," He replied. He knew he had that look in his eyes, the one that said he being backed into a corner and thought he was going to lose. And Jo could see it. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his still damp hair and then turned away, striding across the room to sink down onto his bed. Jo followed, quietly padding her way to sit beside him and Dean closed his eyes as her scent invaded his senses.

"I don't understand what's wrong about wanting this Dean," Jo said, a hesitant hand on his wrist.

"It's not-" He began turning to face her but a startling knock sounded on the door and Ellen's voice came, muffled through the door,

"Dean, you in there hun? I'm looking for Jo have you seen her?"

"Shit," Dean murmured, looking towards Jo who shook her head vehemently.

"No Ellen, sorry!" He called back and sighed in relief when the elder woman strode away, footsteps fading into the distance.

"I should go," Jo said apologetically.

"Yeah." Dean replied and Jo stood up. He watched as she walked over to the door and put her hand on the door knob once more. Dean opened his mouth to speak, inhaling but stopped, tilting his head to the side as he heard a faint growling coming from the window. He stood up, nodding to Jo as she finally left and made his way to the noise. Unsurprisingly there was nothing there; the damn hellhounds were just toying with him, trying to keep him on edge at all times. And well, Dean had to say they were doing a wonderful job of it. So, shaking his head he closed the curtains and lay back down to get some much needed rest. After all, he still felt like crap.

* * *

Sam knew he should probably go and check to see whether Dean was awake yet. After all, he had slept all through yesterday, only waking up – according to Jo – to have a shower and take some pills before going back to sleep. Jo had told him, deadpanned and Sam knew something else had happened. He had rolled his eyes at both of their stupidity and gone back to researching possible ways out of the deal. As it were, Sam was currently nose-deep in another of Ellen's demonology books when said owner of the book ventured into the kitchen. So engrossed with his research – he felt like he was on the brink of a discovery so he couldn't stop now – Sam didn't hear the door open – or close – and really didn't hear Ellen stride up behind him to peer over his shoulder. It was only when she coughed emphatically that he shot upright, slamming the book closed.

"Jesus Christ Ellen, you scared the crap outta me. Don't sneak up on people like that!" Sam said clutching at his heart. Ellen just raised her eyebrows in amusement and said:

"So what is it that has you all in a flap?"

"Uh, nothing. Just...reading up on some stuff about...stuff?" Sam replied, cringing inwardly because hell, he wouldn't have believed that either. Ellen raised her eyebrows – if it were even possible – higher again and folded her arms, slid into the chair across from the youngest Winchester.

"Sure." She said dryly. "Reading up on– I believe that Sam, thousands wouldn't. So you wanna tell me what you're really doing in here with your face all pressed up against the pages, for three and a half hours?"

"Um." Sam responded looking at the table because...well he'd been caught off guard and all his excuses had dried up.

"That's what I thought. And while I'm at it, what's up with you and Dean? Something happen recently that I'm not aware of? Did you boys have a fight?"

"Lots of stuff happens Ellen, we're hunters after all." Sam replied snarkily.

"Now don't get like that with me Sam, I'm just worried about you boys is all." Her eyes had narrowed to slits at Sam's tone and he cringed back into his seat at the look he was being lanced with.

"I know Ellen, I'm sorry. I just...with Dean and...I just don't know what to do anymore."

"Well now, that's a start. Why are you so worried about your brother?"

Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead. "It's just been a tough couple of weeks is all," He said, turning away, hoping to put Ellen off this subject.

"You know that's not gonna put me off Sam, so how about the truth this time?" She leaned towards him, elbows on the table. Her face was kind, which softened the harshness of her tone, but Sam knew that her 'question' was more of a demand.

"I promised I wouldn't, Ellen," He said, not looking at her. Sam knew he couldn't tell Ellen about the deal. He knew it. He had promised Dean that he would not tell either of the Harvelle's, and it wasn't that Sam intended to break his promise he just...he just wanted someone to help him, he just wanted someone to tell him what to do, how to save Dean. He wanted John here. He would know what to do.

"Well don't you think that if it _this_ serious that you're making promises not to tell anyone, that maybe you should tell someone?" Ellen said softly.

He shouldn't tell her.

But, oh, he wanted the weight lifted from his shoulders for a little while.

He shouldn't tell her.

He shouldn't.

He shouldn't.

He–

"Last year," He began huskily, "Last year, at the Devil's gate, do you remember Ellen?" He asked, looking up at her under his fringe.

"Yes," She said, drawing out the word as if to say, _where are you going with this?_

"Just before that...something happened. Something bad happened." He broke off fingers rubbing across his eyes to dispel the burning that could only mean tears were in his eyes.

"What honey, what happened?"

* * *

Dean awoke with a startled gasp, blinking ferociously to dispel images of being chased and ripped apart by hell hounds. He groaned, shoving the heel of his hand into his eyes and turned to look at the clock on the bedside table. He groaned again when he realised it was about 2 in the afternoon on Wednesday. So that meant he'd slept through an entire day yesterday. Sheesh.

Levering himself up, Dean grabbed his duffle bag and rifled through it, looking for something to wear. He eventually pulled out a plain t-shirt and some old, soft and worn jeans that he should probably have dumped a while ago but for some reason couldn't bear to part with. He pulled the fraying jeans on and then the t-shirt before leaving the room in favour of finding food and his brother...preferably in that order, because he didn't want to deal with sasquatch Sammy just yet.

Dean was sticking with this plan when he heard raised voices coming from the kitchen. Curiosity getting the better of him, Dean slowed his steps, quieting them and padded barefoot down the corridor and pushed the door open quietly. He stopped, frozen in disbelief as he watched the scene unfold before him.

"–ean went to a crossroads and –" Sam broke off.

"Oh honey, please don't tell me what I think you're about to tell me," Ellen said, hand rubbing up and down Sam's arm.

"He made a deal Ellen, my life for his soul and I can't, I can't–" Sam's voice broke and Dean watched as tears began to roll down his cheeks, hidden by his hands.

And then Ellen was gathering Sam up in her arms, saying, "Oh baby, oh Sam, it's alright, come here honey,"

"He's got less than two weeks left and I still haven't-I haven't..." He hiccupped and leant back to look at Ellen, but his eyes skittered up to the now open door way and to Dean whose breath had whooshed out of him. "Dean! Dean wait-"

Dean turned on his heel and stepped out of the kitchen, striding down the hall to the main bar to make his escape. He couldn't deal with this now, Sam had promised, promised him that he wouldn't tell anyone and–

"Stop! Stop, Dean, wait!" Sam's words cut Dean to the bone, the scared tone that screamed, please, please don't leave. But Dean was too angry, and he used the anger that stabbed him deep in the chest to cover the abysmal ache of hurt and betrayal.

He got to the bar door when he heard Sam's pounding footsteps in the hallway behind him and slammed into the room, revelling in the way Jo jumped up with fright from where she was sat at the table. Her face was a picture of surprise when she saw the thunderous look on Dean's face and Sam trailing behind him saying,

"Dean, stop, wait, man please understand, I didn't mean it. I swear I didn't mean it! And I know I promised I wouldn't tell anyone but –" Sam said, rushing after him. And it was only thanks to exceptionally long legs that Sam had managed to catch up with Dean and grab his shoulder.

"Let me go Sam," He growled, keeping his eyes away from Sam's face and imploring eyes, all the while attempting to pull his arm free of his little brother's bear grip. When that failed – it wasn't that Dean was weak; no it was just that Sam was a strong bastard when he wanted to be, and Dean's ribs hurt too much to really try and get away from his brother – he kept his head down, stopped struggling and said calmly, his tone blank, "Let me go."

"No," Sam retorted, placing his right hand on Dean's other shoulder. And Dean got even angrier. He didn't deserve this; he had done what he thought best, he had saved his little brother from death. The one thing he had asked from his brother was to not spill his secrets to every damn hunter in the world. Especially Ellen and Jo. He knew what would happen if people knew. He'd get the pitying looks, he'd get told he deserved it, what did he expect? After all he was the stupid bastard who made the deal, why should anyone help him escape hell? Then he'd get the people who'd turn him into a cautionary tale, Dad's would tell their boys, don't go making no deals with the devil son, remember that Dean Winchester, that poor bastard's still rotting in hell. Well fuck them. And fuck Sam and his self righteous ass. Why should he put up with his bullshit and lame excuses? So Sam felt guilty for betraying his trust, for breaking his promise, so what? Did he care? Yes actually, he cared so much it was making his eyes sting and his chest hurt.

"Dean, breath, for Christ sake," Sam said shaking him suddenly. Dean gasped in a breath of air and then another before saying quietly:

"I swear to God if you don't let me go right the fuck now I'm gonna–"

Sam cut him off – and didn't that just piss Dean off all the more – saying, "I'm sorry Dean, you have to believe me, I know you didn't want me to tell anyone, but you won't do anything about it! You won't help me save you at all, and I need you, I can't do this without you. So I went to Ellen, she might be able to help us Dean! I didn't mean to betray you but–" And yeah, like hell Sam hadn't meant all to tell Ellen.

Dean felt hurt and angry and betrayed by his last living family member and he just wanted to go somewhere, anywhere and curl into a tight ball and block out the world. He didn't want to go to hell. He didn't want to die. And here was Sam making it all the worse for him. But worst of all he wanted to believe Sam, believe him when he said he could save Dean, believe him when he said he needed Dean.

But Dean couldn't believe him.

Could never trust him again.

Not after this.

And all went silent at this revelation.

Sam was still talking to him, still shaking him, still trying to get forgiveness but he could hear nothing, he could see Sam's lips moving, see the words painted on his mouth, but heard nothing but the hell hound.

It was behind him, sniffing at his feet. Its growl was a deep rumbling of thunder that shook Dean to his very core. Dean went stock still and rigid in Sam's grip, ignoring the confusion on Sam's face and question in his eyes. Dean felt it nudge his leg with its snout, its teeth grazing his jeans. So taking a deep breath he looked down and to his left, never in a million years expecting to see what had been hounding him these past weeks.

The hell hound was black.

That was Dean's first observation.

And then he realised that that was a bad description.

It was more like a black hole, a yawning emptiness where the dog should be. A hound shaped hole of black with piercing red eyes that smouldered like coals in a fire. Its fur was dense and shaggy but looked oily as it glinted grimly in the fluorescent lights. Its jowls shuddered with each growl that it let loose from its throat and each snap of its teeth sent drool and spittle dribbling onto the floor, sizzling little holes into the wood where it landed thick and cloudy. Stained teeth peeked out from underneath its lips, long and curved like knives, too many for Dean to count and he willed himself not to move.

He watched as the dog swished its tail, long and black, leaving a trail of embers behind it to float to the ground, disappearing into nothing. The only evidence that they had been there was the imprint on the inside of Dean's eyelids when he closed his eyes in shock, in horror.

The paws were tar slick and sticky; its claws were sharp and twisted down towards the wooden floor where they were scratching deep gouges into the oak with each little movement and twitch. Dean could see a trail of tar and ash leading out of the roadhouse, and he knew, he knew immediately that he needed to get it away from his brother, needed to get it away from Jo and Ellen.

It growled again, a flash of fire flicking from the open jaws of the hell hound, and it snapped at Dean's feet again. This time Dean saw as well as felt the fire lick at his ankles and up his calves and only managed to hold back a shout of pain. If it could touch him, if it could melt his jeans with a single lick of its long lolling tongue, if it could twitch its head and burn and blister the skin of Dean's leg with a single snort from its snout, it could do it to Sam. He whimpered minutely at the pain, hoping Sam wouldn't hear.

"Dean, man, what's wrong?"

Dean said nothing, not taking his eyes off the hound next to him and shoved his brother, as hard as he could away from him. He inwardly winced when Sam tumbled to the floor and took a step away. The hell hound followed, so Dean took another step, then another when the dog continued to follow him.

So preoccupied with the hell hound Dean didn't notice his brother levering himself off the floor an expression of hurt on his face. But he sure as hell noticed Sam when he grabbed Dean again, by the arms, shaking him.

"Dean, what's wrong?!" His eyebrows were furrowed with worry when Dean finally, finally looked up at him, looked at his brother's eyes that were no longer clouded with anger, and watched as his face slowly distorted. Sam's head snapped to the side and his mouth gaped open, eyes dribbling a black, blood like substance. He twitched, head jerking until it was tilted on an angle and let out a snarl that crackled through a twisted throat.

The burning in Dean's arms caused him to look down, and he found the things hands burning hand prints into his flesh. The fingers were scrabbling at his arms as if trying to tear chunks of him off. Dean flinched away out of his grasp and watched as the things head rolled forwards on its neck as it brought its hands up to its mouth. Head bowed Dean watched as a tongue flicked out tasting the blood and burnt flesh under the fingernails. Dean watched as it sucked all of the blood off its fingers and then looked up at Dean for more one arm reaching out towards him.

It smiled.

Dean flicked his eyes to either side of the things head, watching as two more of the things lurched and staggered towards him. The one on the left looked as if its ankle was broken, and its hair that probably was once golden and flowing was in bloody clumps where it seemed to have been torn out. Its face was distorted; eyes gouged out and bloody, mouth torn open wider than possible and seemed intent on screaming as it took slow, wavering steps towards him. The skin of its face was sliding off as if it had been half skinned alive, but it seemed to relish in this fact, pulling clumps of the flesh off along with its hair.

The thing to the far right was in no better condition; one shoulder was pulled up, its hand hanging limply at its chest as it darted forwards, then back, as if feinting or skittish. Its chest had been torn open, as if one of the things had been looking for something within the rib cage, the bones all broken and pointing outwards but seemed to move inwards when it breathed in harsh, shuddering wheezes. The fingers on the hand held at its ripped open chest were bloody, and burnt, the skin black and white bone peeked through the mess of torn flesh. The things eyes were scarily normal, hazel and wide, wide for the eyelids had been torn off and were being chewed vigorously in a lipless mouth, teeth sharp and pointed.

And then all of a sudden it was gone, and it was Sam and Ellen and Jo looking at Dean all wearing similar looks of confusion and concern.

His arms weren't bleeding anymore.

"Shit," Dean murmured backing away again. "Shit, what the fuck is going on?"

"Dean, what is it? Man, tell me what's wrong?"

"Fuck," Dean muttered, remembering the hell hound. He swung around looking for the beast of a dog only to find paw prints and scratches leading outside. To be sure he checked the inside of the bar, ignoring Sam and Jo and Ellen and their calls of worry, and when he was certain that it was gone, he turned to Sam and just looked at him.

"Fuck off Sam, leave me alone." He said pulling himself out of Sam's death grip he had going on. He gave his brother a meaningful look and turned to go back into the bar, a plan of attack already developing in his mind.

* * *

"Fuck off Sam, leave me alone." Sam almost took a step away from the utter fury in Dean's tone but the look that he gave him made him stop and think. What if Dean's odd behaviour was to do with the deal?

"Dean! Wait-" Sam said, noticing that his brother was already disappearing through the doorway, but Ellen's hand on his arm stopped him. Looking down at the smaller woman he gave her a desperate look but she simply shook her head.

"Let him be, Sam. Give him time to cool off," She said leading him towards a chair.

"I don't want him to be alone, he might run off or-" Sam broke off, running his fingers through his hair and making to go after his brother but Ellen forcefully stopped him once more.

"He doesn't want to see you right now Sam, you're only going to make it worse. If you're that worried," She said seeing the wild look in his eyes, "I'll send Jo down to babysit," She looked up at her daughter who was privately wondering what the hell was going on and said, "Jo, hun, will you go stay with Dean, make sure he doesn't run off anywhere,"

"Sure Mom," She said slowly, eyebrows furrowed, "But wh-"

"I'm not going to tell you, and neither is Sam."

"I doubt Dean will either," Sam said from between his hands. "Just, please Jo, make sure he doesn't leave,"

"Alright, don't worry. I'll keep an eye on him,"

"Thanks Jo, just...thankyou."

* * *

The knock on the door sent Dean on edge and he growled through clenched teeth, "Sam leave me the FUCK alone,"

"It's not Sam, Dean," The voice replied and Dean raised his eyes to the ceiling whispering "Why, why would you do such a thing! For godssake...dammit,"

"Would you just open the door." Jo growled back, "Come on, I haven't got all day. Open the door."

"No." Dean shot back leaning against the wall and folding his arms.

"Don't make me get Sam," She threatened and Dean swore.

"Fuck, fine, fine, you hear me? Come in." Dean flicked the lock and went back to packing his bags, completely ignoring the very existence of the blonde behind him.

"Dean, what-?" She began and Dean growled back still to her. He didn't want to look at her. Now that Ellen knew it wouldn't be long before-

"Just shut up." He said hands clenched at his sides.

"What's going on? Did you have a fight with Sam?"

"No, he's just a fucking-"

"Dean," Jo said coming to stand beside him. He could see her in his peripheral vision, all blonde hair and pink lips and he closed his eyes tightly shut. He clenched his fists tighter, nails cutting into the palms of his hands, trying, trying not to touch her. Trying not to look at her. He didn't want to see her face twisted and horrifying.

He didn't count on her touching him.

"Dean," She said softly, a hesitant hand place on his arm. "Dean, what's wrong, why are you leaving?"

"You want to know?!" Dean shouted angry, "You really wanna fucking know?! 'Cos once I tell you there's no going back."

"Dean it can't be that ba-" She began softly, laying a hand on his arm.

Dean wrenched out of her grip striding away. It was five steps before he swung around eyes lazing and said dangerously:

"I sold my _fucking_ soul Jo. I'm going to fucking hell in two weeks! Is that bad enough for you?!"

"W-what?" The shocked, disbelieving look upon Jo's face would have been funny if Dean wasn't so angry.

"I sold my soul. I sold my soul Jo! I sold my FUCKING soul!" He spat out, turning away from her. "Now do you understand? Get the fuck out."

Dean closed his eyes tightly when he heard the snick of the door shutting and let out a harsh laugh, _suck it up Dean, got what you fucking wanted. Just deal with it and get the hell outta here before Sam comes in. _Nodding to himself Dean set about locking the door and continuing to pack his bag, motions jerky and vision blurred. _Not fucking crying, come on. Suck it UP Dean!_ He threw his bag down onto the bed angry at himself, angry at his weakness and strode away to face the door.

But then Dean couldn't hold it in any longer and hot, wet tears rolled down his cheeks as he punched the door, once, twice, three times before sliding down to rest before it. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it. Not anymore.

* * *

When Jo came running back into the room not five minutes later, tears streaming down her face Sam just knew that Dean had told her. But it was the panicked look upon her face that made Sam jump up from his seat.

"Jo? Jo, what is it? What's the matter?" Sam asked hurriedly.

"He's leaving, he's leaving Sam. Stop him."

"No!" His heart leapt into his throat and before anyone could stop him, Sam was charging down the corridor and banging on the door leading to his and Dean's room. "Dean! Dean please, please let me in, don't go!"

* * *

"Dean! Dean please, please let me in, don't go!"

Fuck that, Dean thought as Sam continued to bang on the door. Enough with being a pussy, enough with fucking sitting on the floor crying, enough with fucking everything. For once Dean was going to do what Sam did. For once Dean was going to be the one to leave.

"No! No, whatever you think you're doing. Don't! I swear to God Dean whatever dumb ass this you think you're going to get away with let me tell you, it's not going to work! So just open the fucking door!" Sam's voice was strained, and he knew, he knew what Dean was planning.

So levering himself up off the floor and shouldering his bag he turned back to the door and said, loud enough that Sam would be able to hear him, "Sorry, Sammy."

"NO!" Sam hit the door again, probably with his shoulder...or maybe his head.

Ignoring the howl Sam made Dean vaulted out of the window and took off at a sprint towards the impala, with much difficulty because of his ribs. What worried him was the fact that the pounding on the door had stopped. And that only meant one thing.

Shit Sam was trying to head him off. Was going to meet him at the impala and try and stop him.

Why couldn't this just be easy?

So Dean was still running towards the impala despite the sharp stabbing pains shooting through his ribs with his jolting step, when he saw the hulking figure of his brother stood by the drivers' door. He came to a stop just shy of Sam's monkey arms reach.

"You stupid bastard! What the fuck are you doing? Where the fuck are you going?" Sam spat and Dean shifted his feet almost guiltily because Sam never swore, not really, so he must be really upset...or really pissed to be hurling abuse at Dean. He was conscious of Ellen and Jo watching but ignored them in favour of shouting back to Sam:

"What do you think Sam? I'm getting out of here." Dean replied stoically, the mask had come down, the walls had gone up. Sam was getting nothing from him. But then Sam's expression had changed with his words. _Aw hell no_, Dean thought blindly as he turned away. The puppy eyes were coming out.

"No, Dean, what are you doing? I know I told Ellen, I know I've betrayed your trust, but why are you leaving? You can't just leave, Dean!" Sam's voice was broken and wavering, betraying the fact that he was almost crying.

"Fuck. You." He said again, trying to remain angry, remembering that Sam had tried to manipulate him. He put a hand to his ribs, which were throbbing and pulsing with a white hot pain and Sam's eyes tracked the movement.

"You're still hurt, you can't _go_ anywhere!" Sam said taking a step forwards.

"I am, and I will." Dean replied, his eyebrows pulled down and he glared at Sam who was reaching out to him. "You can't change this Sam!" He said finally, stopping Sam in his place. Dean looked up, afraid at the expression he would see on Sam's face.

Sam looked like he'd been punched in the gut. He was stooped, and pale, like the blood had drained from his face at Dean's revelation that he didn't think that Sam could save him from Hell. Dean winced but repeated his words, "You can't change what I did,"

Sam was a few paces away from the impala now and seemed to be stuck in place. So Dean figured this may be his only chance to get out of here without hurting his brother any more.

His mind was doing a somewhat sad victory dance when his hand made contact with the door handle until Sam's hands came down on his shoulders. The iron grip of his fingers pulled Dean away from the car and suddenly Dean was being shaken.

"I'm not letting you leave. Whether you believe in me or not, you're still not going anywhere!" And Sam was still gripping Dean tightly and pulling him away from the impala and towards the Roadhouse.

Dean elbowed Sam in the gut, and when Sam's breath wheezed out Dean scrambled from underneath his grasp, only to have his arm grabbed. He turned and sent a death glare at his brother. He didn't want Sam to be caught up in this mess anymore. Didn't want to let him hope and hope and when the day came and Dean died it would be so much worse.

Maybe he should have topped himself, sent his soul down ahead of time.

Sam let go of his arm, but stood between Dean and the impala again, his stance was a warning: you have to go through me to leave. But his eyes said, _I don't want to hurt you, don't make me hurt you, please Dean._ But Dean simply said, "Bring it on," and clenched his fists tight lowering them from where they had been held protectively at his ribs.

Their fight was short-lived, after all Sam fought dirty knowing that Dean was still hurt, still weak. Dean got one good shot in on Sam's jaw, wincing in sympathy when his lip split and blood dripped down his chin. But that sympathy was fleeting when Sam jabbed him hard in the side.

"I'm sorry Dean, I can't let you go," Sam said before hitting him.

Pain bloomed at the back of Dean's head, it radiated in waves through his body, spiking and fluctuating in agonising ripples; he stumbled forwards at the force of the blow, pressing his hands in front of him in an effort keep himself upright. Sam hit him. The knowledge astounded him as he began to tumble to the floor, fully expecting to hit the floor a full speed, but Sam's arms caught him gently about his waist. Sam was tender, contradicting his previous action of violence and it made Dean shudder. His vision blurred and darkened, but he managed to catch Sam's heartbroken expression before he was swept away into a nightmarish oblivion, glaring all the while.

Dean didn't remember anything after that.

* * *

"I'm sorry Dean, I can't let you go," Sam said, pulling his arm back and punching his brother in the back of the head. He winced, closing his eyes at the desperate sound his brother made, grappling for purchase on anything as he stumbled and began to fall. Sam grabbed him about the waist, aiming for gentle, apologising with tender hands for his brutal treatment, and watched as Dean sank into unconsciousness with anger and betrayal in his eyes.

Dean went limp after that, and the dead weight made Sam feel sick. He could still here Ellen sniffling behind him, and called out, "I need some rope or handcuffs or something Ellen could you get me some? Jo can you help me get him inside to one of the booths?"

The blonde was there in an instant, helping Sam grab his brother and lever him upright. She took hold of one of Dean's arms, slinging around her shoulder before pulling him, along with Sam towards the nearest booth. They positioned Dean into a semi upright position in the leather booth, waiting for Ellen to return with something to hold Dean with.

"So can you explain to me how all this happened then?" Jo asked, sitting opposite Dean, watching the elder with worried, tearful eyes as he breathed slow and deep. His face was smooth and wrinkle free, he looked so much younger when he slept, Sam couldn't help but think.

"No," Sam said slumping onto the floor beside his brother's legs, "I think, maybe you should hear it all from Dean, what with how things have been between you to lately."

Jo cocked her head at that, eyebrows furrowed in worry, but before she could open her mouth to question him again, he said, "Do you think you could go get my Dad's journal from our room?"

"Sure," She said softly, and giving Dean one last fond though worried look she left. Ellen sat down in her vacated seat, passing the handcuffs to Sam who took them with a thankful nod. He levered Dean forwards so his chest was pressed against the table. Then he took hold of Dean's wrists and flipped the handcuffs shut, reclining his brother back against the soft leather of the chairs. He rubbed at his burning eyes and shuffled over to the bar, grabbing the whiskey and taking a long, hard gulp.

"Sam," Ellen was at his elbow, touching his arm softly, trying to take the bottle from his clenched grip. "That won't help hun," She said softly, pulling him along into a booth behind Dean's.

"Don't tell Jo," He said suddenly, and Elle leant away from him in surprise.

"What? Sam, I think the cat's out of the bag now, you don't have to worry about your promise to Dean–"

"Just...let Dean do it, in his own time."

"This is because of those two getting close isn't it?" Ellen said with a knowing look in her eyes.

"You know?" Sam said, too tired to be shocked.

"Boy a mother always knows when her girls got a thing for a man,"

"Yeah, well Dean's got a thing for your girl and is too torn up about this deal to do anything. He's been pushing Jo away, trying to save her the heartache or something when he–" Sam broke off with a choked sob when he realised what he had been about to say.

"Sam," Ellen said, reaching across the table to grip his wrist, "Sam I want you to tell me everything that's happened. I mean everything, I need the whole story if we're going to try and help,"

So Sam did. Relayed every little bit of information that he could remember; spoke of everything Dean had told him about the deal. He told them of killing the crossroads demon, of Lilith and Ruby, of the trickster and Dean dying. He told them everything and anything about the past year that happened. And when he finished they looked as worn as Sam felt.

"So a week, Dean has a little under 2 weeks left, and I still have no idea how to help him." Sam murmured.

"I'll try my best to help Sam, but I don't know if I have any book that'll help you break this deal,"

"I know," Sam said, head bowed towards the table, "I know, but I have to try,"

"I still don't know why he was looking at us like that before. Sam? Any idea?"

But Sam didn't have the opportunity to respond because Dean groaned from the table in front of them, his head rolling as he tried to pull himself upright.

"Dean?" He said quickly getting out of the booth and striding towards his brother, "You okay man, sorry 'bout hitting you," He looked down at Dean, whose glaring at him from beneath his eyelashes. "Aw Dean, come on, don't look at me like that. You would have done the same thing if it was me in this position."

Dean squinted and looked away, muttering something beneath his breath that Sam thought sounded remarkably like, "Fucker," and pulled at his handcuffs. Sam rolled his eyes sitting down opposite Dean.

"You're just gonna hit me if I take 'em off Dean. Quit pulling."

"Fuck off Sam," Dean said angrily blatantly ignoring what Sam had just said.

"Now Dean," Ellen began, coming into view and sliding in to sit beside Sam, "Don't talk to your brother like that, he's trying his very best to keep you safe–"

"And alive," Jo bit out rolling her eyes as she stepped back into the room journal in hand. At that comment Dean glared even more at Sam, who winced in apology because Dean knew the main reason he hadn't wanted the Harvelle's to know about his deal was, 1. Dean didn't want anyone to know. 2. They'd get all pitying. 3. Ellen would become a giant mother hen. And 4. Jo would undoubtedly get on Dean's case about it. And cry. And make him feel guilty about everything.

"Please believe me when I say I didn't mean to betray you, Dean. I was angry at myself for not having found a way out of this deal, when I'd promised you I would. I just needed to tell someone, I needed help Dean,"

When Dean said nothing, deliberately ignoring Sam and the Harvelle's and looking out of the window, Ellen huffed and said, "Dean Winchester you know your brother loves you, so don't make this any harder on him than necessary."

Dean's glare, Sam noted thankfully softened a little at Ellen's words, but he could tell Dean didn't completely believe that Sam had just needed help. However Dean seemed to have marginally forgiven Sam, Sam who swore that not only would he save Dean from this fate, but also convince his big brother that he really, truly loved him. Never again would he hurt Dean like this.

"So," Sam said into the silence. He gained Dean's attention, his green eyes flicked to watch Sam as he leant forwards, bracing his arms on the table. "Do you want to talk about what happened? About before when I was trying to stop you from leaving, before you went to our room?"

Dean raised an eyebrow and Sam huffed.

"What, have you gone mute or something with that blow to the head? I knock something important loose?" The dig got the desired effect, Dean's eyes narrowed and he growled:

"Fuck off, you little twerp, you hit like a girl."

"Hey I'm way taller than you and man you went down like a sack o' potatoes." Sam laughed, Ellen rolling her eyes at the exchange.

"Bitch," Dean pouted, eyes squinting.

"Jerk,"

"Boys," Ellen rolled her eyes to the ceiling as if to say: please god, help me, and Jo laughed, from across the bar where she was grabbing a chair to pull up so she could sit next to the group.

"Sorry," Sam murmured, mouth twitching. "So are you gonna explain what happened then?" Sam pushed.

"Pushy, pushy," Dean muttered to himself and then sighed, "Only if you take these things off me," He said, jerking his head back to indicate the handcuffs around his wrists. Sam nodded, albeit a little suspiciously and flicked a look at Jo, who said: "Sure," before pulling out the little key from her jeans pocket.

* * *

Dean rubbed his wrists, wincing at the strain that his ribs had endured with his arms being pulled behind his back. He tried not to frown at the intense scrutiny he was being subjected to by Sam and the Harvelle's and eventually leant back against the soft, red leather of the chair. Head titled back he sighed, deeply and long before saying, somewhat grudgingly: "Gopher dust, just get the fucking gopher dust."

Ellen frowned.

Jo privately wondered what the hell was going on.

Sam blinked.

"Fuck." Sam said and turned away, running presumably to their room to get their stash of the power, while Jo and Ellen stood lost in the middle of the room, both wearing identical expressions of complete confusion. With Sam out of the room, Dean stalked to the door, throwing it open to stare at the road searching for the hell hound.

The thing was still there, by the fucking impala.

"You piss on my car I'm gonna slaughter you, you fucking mongrel!" Dean yelled giving it the finger and smiling in satisfaction when it seemed to raise its hackles in annoyance. It turned tail to walk down the road, its gait betraying its supernatural origins; it didn't walk like a normal wolf or dog, it seemed to flow, each step it took was fluid, and sinewy, graceful to the point where it looked as if it was floating rather than running. "Yeah you better run bastard!" Dean yelled again for good measure, watching it until it disappeared into nothing. Gone back to its bitch of a mistress probably.

"Dean, I got it," Sam said to his right – when the hell had he gotten back – and passed him one of the bags of the reddish dust.

"Doors and windows," Dean murmured not looking at his brother, and bent to make a line in front of the door. "Do the whole place, can't have it getting in."

"Sure,"

"Hold up," Ellen said loudly cutting Dean off in his ministrations, "You are gonna tell me what the hell all that was before you start laying down a loada shit on my nice clean floors!"

"Sorry Ellen, no can do, my being here's brought some bad stuff down on you and I can't let it in," Dean said over his shoulder, continuing laying down the gopher dust.

"Now hold on I've had this place blessed and charmed and had sigils, _sigils_ fucking engraved into the doors and window frames. Nothing evil's getting in here,"

"Hate to break it to you, but it _was_ in here,"

"And what exactly is '_it'_?" Jo asked from beside her mother, "Because I didn't see anything, Mom didn't see anything, and I'd bet my life that Sam didn't see anything so–"

"Jo," Ellen said sharply.

"What exactly _is _going on, huh Mom? Sam, Dean? Mind telling me, cos I sure as hell have no idea." Jo said, slamming a bottle of whiskey down onto the bar. Dean looked up, saw Ellen sat on the bar, Jo pouring out shots, and Sam across the room, expression dark and haunted before he fled to secure the rest of the Roadhouse.

Dean sighed, finishing pouring the bag of dust in front of the last window in the main bar. Then he walked over to the door, and flipped the sign to closed. He stared at the wood, stared at the grains and just wished that this wasn't happening. Then he turned around, walked up to the bar and grabbed one of the shot glasses. He downed it, relishing in the sharp burn.

"I get that you're angry at me Jo," He began but she snorted,

"That's gotta be the fucking understatement of the century."

Dean sighed, rubbing his hand over his eyes and turned away, missing the way Jo's eyes softened at the last minute.

"It was a hell hound."

"So you could actually see it?" Sam asked worriedly.

"Yeah, guess its just because I'm almost gone, you know? 'Cos I've almost passed over. Eh, I don't know."

"No, I understand, yeah. So what happened?" Sam replied leaning forwards in his seat to look at his brother.

"The hell hound was over by the door. I felt it touch me when you grabbed me Sam,"

Sam nodded because that explained why Dean had been looking at the floor, but Dean could tell that something else had dawned on him, "So why did you look so freaked out when you looked at me?" His eyebrows were drawn up and together, betraying his confusion.

Dean shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Wasn't Sam supposed to already know this? He didn't want to tell Sam about the hallucinations and looked up about to tell him it was nothing, the hell hound again when low and behold the hallucinations had started up again.

"Shit," He swore and the three things leant in towards him, mouths gaping wide and thousands of needle-like teeth glinted in the light, eyes – this time white – rolled and roved around in their skulls. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," He wasn't sure how much more he could take of this, he pushed up out of his chair and stumbled across the room, keeping his eyes on the things as they moved towards him slowly. When his back hit the wall he closed his eyes, as tightly shut as he could and his hands were clamped over his ears to keep out the sound of the groaning and the shuffling of the things as he slid to the floor. "Shut up, shut up goddammit!" He growled. His hands ached to grab the knife in his boots and when he felt his hand moving towards his ankle, he slammed his fist back into the wall, three times, ignoring the stabbing pain."Fuck, not real, not real," He murmured and concentrated on taking deep breaths and keeping that knife out of his hands. He flinched at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder and Dean looked up to find his brother hovering unsurely over his prone form, a look of such concern in his eyes that it made him want to cry.

But Dean Winchester did not cry.

And with that notion, he smiled a little weakly at Sam, apologetically at his display of weakness, flushing somewhat, "Um...help me up," He said, reaching out and when Sam did nothing but grip his shoulder tightly he said again, "Help me up Sammy,"

Sam grabbed his offered hand this time, hauling him to his feet and swept him into a bear hug.

"Stop scaring me like this Dean," He murmured into the top of Dean's head.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled into Sam's chest, allowing the hug to continue. For Sam of course.

After a moment Sam let Dean go, holding him at arm's length and scrutinised him deeply. Dean rolled his eyes and gestured for them to go and sit with the women again and when Sam didn't move, Dean grabbed his sleeve and tugged.

Seated in front of a mighty concerned Ellen and downright pissed off Jo was nothing he couldn't deal with, except if they did that thing with their eyes again, when they rolled up and around, he might just wig out.

"You okay Dean?" Ellen asked, reaching across the table to grip Dean's wrist, offering what little comfort she could. Dean mustered up a tight smile.

"Yeah, Ellen, I'm okay." He lied glibly.

"Well, I'm not," Jo said, "What the hell was that Dean, you were terrified," Her harshness and blank voice, Dean supposed was due to her anger at Dean.

"Joanna," Ellen admonished under her breath, elbowing her daughter sharply. Dean watched as Jo elbowed her mother back and glared. There was a moments silence and then Sam shifted in his seat, turning slightly towards Dean, and Dean knew he was about to start up with the questions.

"So," Sam began, _again, _not even trying to hide the fact that he was prying still. And Dean was just sick of all this skirting around the issue, so Sam's mouth was wide open when Dean began to talk out of the blue.

"It is part and parcel of making a deal Sam, I thought you knew that," Dean said cutting his brother off suddenly, sharply.

Sam shut his mouth with an audible snap. He looked genuinely baffled, having no clue what Dean was talking about. When it seemed his brother still wasn't getting it he said – the heel of his hand pressing hard into his eyes – somewhat embarrassed and self-conscious at the fact he would have to admit his weakness to him.

"Hallucinations Sammy," His tone was harsh as if to say, what are _you_ gonna say about it? And why did you have to make me tell you?

"What do you mean 'hallucinations' Dean, that's pretty vague,"

"Not really. It's all in the name Sam. Ha-llu-cin-ation. Pretty self-explanatory."

"No Dean, I don't think it really is. What are you seeing things –"

"Duh," Dean cut in rolling his eyes upwards at Sam's apparent inability to understand what hallucination actually meant. Of course he was seeing things. Idiot.

" –like in the room with us?" Sam continued speaking right over Dean, eyebrow quirked in frustration. But his forehead was still furrowed betraying his worry.

"Stop frowning so much, dude you'll get wrinkles," He muttered. Then when Sam looked as if he was getting angry with Dean shirking around the issue he said bluntly: "It's you. You three _actually_," He stopped talking and mock glared, squinting his eyes and pursing his lips, "You with your twisty faces and crispy skin, and swirly eyes...creeping the hell outta me. You hear that you three? Creeps the lot o' ya."

There was a beat of silence.

"I don't understand," Jo said finally.

"Me neither," Sam replied, eyes narrowed.

"What's there to understand Sam? Almost every time I look at you, your face twists and changes into something which all my hunting instincts scream at me to kill. Do you understand now?"

Ellen was watching Dean with anguished eyes still, and he couldn't take the look of pity so he stood up, suddenly, and turned away, walking towards one of the windows. He stared out at the road, eyes narrowing when he saw the hell hound back at the bottom of the road, pacing.

"Dean, how long has this been going on, honey?" Ellen said across the silence.

"I've been hearing the hell hounds for a couple of weeks," he said. Sam inhaled at his admission but he carried on, knowing that if he stopped that he wouldn't tell them anything. But then again, maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. "But the hallucinations? They just started today."

"Can we stop it? Can we break the deal?" Jo asked, and it was the tone of her voice that made Dean finally look at her. She had been crying, that much Dean could tell, and her eyes betrayed the fact that she wanted to carry on crying.

"No." Dean said, finally coming to terms with the realisation. Sam's eyebrows furrowed and his eyes teared up Dean's admission that he didn't think Sam could save him from going to hell. "No you can't stop it."

* * *

A/N: Whoop, whoop! Glad this one is out. By far I think this has been my favourite chapter so far. Anyway, I don't have much planned for the next chapter, so gimme some ideas peoples!!! I've only got a few vague ideas, so I need some suggestions of what you'd like to see (that is if you want more of course! Meep!) Anyway, please review and tell me what you thought of it! Thanks!!!

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